Angels of Death
by Ashe Corinthos
Summary: "Please... kill me." —Six floors, each with a new set of dangers. A girl with a hidden past, and a killer turned into a sacrifice. An unlikely pair only able to survive together. Death surrounds them— can they escape with their lives? (A novelization of Angels of Death. Warnings inside.)
1. From Within The Nightmare

_No…. no, no, no…_

 _It's all wrong. Everything is wrong._

 _There's so much blood, everywhere, anywhere. Disgusting._

 _Glistening crimson in the pale nighttime glow, it's so ominous. She watches that deranged smile on_ _his_ _face as he approaches her, lifting his knife, the source of the blood._

 _Drip, drip, drip, goes the dark liquid across the floor. It paints a mosaic of grotesque beauty along the wood._

 _Her heart… is it still beating?_

 _From within her nightmare, she continues to watch the same thing happen again, and again, and_ _again._

 _The pool of blood along the kitchen floor, the lifelessness of the mutilated body resting motionless underneath someone else viciously maiming it over and over—_

— _The laughter, ringing out, hurting her ears, and driving her mind to insanity._

 **.x.X.x.**

"N-ngh…"

Slowly, with confusion, the young girl draws herself back to consciousness. As her soft blue eyes take in her surroundings, questions begin to arise.

She sits, alone, in a moonlit room. The chair underneath her is hard, made of weak wood that slightly wobbles when she shifts. The room is bathed in bright rays from the night sky, and she looks back and forth along the room.

The room is empty save for herself, and another emptied chair across from her. As she inspects the remainder of the room, she notices a few security cameras in the right and left corners of the back of the room, tiny blinking red lights making them obvious in the still barrenness.

 _Where… is this?_

The thought nearly shocks her. The more she thinks about that question, the more her head spins. As she tries to wrack her brain, searching for clues on where she might be or what's even going on, she comes to the unnerving realization that she can't recall anything at all. The only thing that comes to mind is her name.

 _I'm… My name is Rachel Gardner. But why can't I recall anything else?_

 _I must have… lost my memories…_

Somehow, as frightening as the conclusion is, she's a bit calmer about it than she expects.

 _Well, I should see if I can find any clues around here._ Nodding to herself, she lifts herself from the chair, finding herself to be relatively stronger than she first thought. She doesn't seem to be hurt at all, thankfully.

She glances behind her, and finds a wide window there to greet her. A large, blue full moon graces the view, filling her vision with its glow. Something about it feels strange, unnatural- it makes her question if it's even real.

 _A blue full moon… is it night, then?_

Another memory begins to resurface, and her eyes narrow in thought, fingers gently gripping her dark handbag reflexively.

 _That's right, I- I think I was in a… a hospital. I'm pretty sure I was in a medical examination room._

Tilting her head, her lips press together in a tight line. A nagging worry pokes at her mind, and she lets out a short exhale, bracing herself.

 _...Anyway, I have to find mom and dad. Maybe they're here somewhere? Could this place be another part of the hospital?_

Ray starts to the exit, and the sound of her own footsteps echoes throughout, breaking the silence that had been somewhat bothering her.

 _Shouldn't there be people? Maybe I should call out for help?_

She banishes the thought quickly. There's something off about this place that makes her hesitant to draw attention to herself.

Gripping the doorknob and finding, with a bit of relief, that it happens to be unlocked, Ray slips through the doorway and enters what looks like a long hallway. Drinking in the surroundings, the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach grows.

 _This place… there is no doubt that this isn't right. This isn't the same hospital as before._ A short chill runs down her spine. The blank white walls, the slightly grimy tile beneath her feet… it's all unfamiliar.

The building seems old and a bit run down, for starters. Down the way, she can see only one other door beside the one she came out from, and a wide area leading down to what she thinks is another hall. However, as she walks over, she finds that it's barred off by a large steel gate. Inspecting it, she sees a card slider nearby.

 _How am I supposed to get out of here if I don't have the key?_

Peering down past the gate, she can see what looks to be an elevator. With this wall between her and it, it feels miles and miles away from her.

 _There_ _is_ _that room down the hall. Maybe I can find the key for it there?_

Feeling it to be her only option, Ray reluctantly wanders over to the door. When she reaches it, she notices some writing etched into the wall beside it, strangely scratchy— like someone had dug it into the wall with the edge of a knife.

"' _Who art thou?'"_ she read aloud to herself, her voice sounding a bit foreign to her ears, especially in the old English. "' _To know, thou must find out for thyself. Is it thine true self? Or thine desired self? An angel? A sacrifice?'"_

"' _Know thyself… and the gate shalt open.'"_

 _What strange writing,_ she mulls over it internally. _I wonder who left this here?_

 _Know thyself? What does this mean?_

 _An angel, or… a sacrifice…_

She ponders the weird note as she enters the room, but it leeches away from her mind as she glances around the small area. It's just as lifeless and sterile as the one she'd woken in, but it feels odd to her. A desktop computer sitting dormant faces the door on a desk, and another card machine sits there as well. She sees a wall paneled with layer after layer of mirrors, but her reflection seems to appear only in the tall panel in the middle. After doodling with the lifeless monitor for a minute, she wanders over to the mirrors, stopping when she faces herself.

She stares at herself for a moment, glancing at her appearance. Her favorite black and white striped shirt half-hidden under her pale jacket and the strap of her trusty handbag, and her dark shorts peeking out from beneath that. A pair of boots with little metal buckles that she's been fond of, that seem a bit dirty for some reason. Her long blonde hair is a bit mussed, with that one tuft sticking up that she can never manage to tame. She brushes her bangs from her eyes, watching her double do the same.

 _...Just my usual self,_ she thinks with a tiny quirk of her mouth.

 _Click._

She nearly jumps at the sound of what reminds her of a switch being flipped snaps through the air— and then something akin to radio static triggering from the desktop she thought didn't work. Turning around, she catches the sight of colored light flickering over the desk, and hastily she moves back to face the computer, curiosity tugging at her.

Some kind of program has booted up on screen without prompting. It beeps at her as if it had waited for her appearance.

"E-Enter data?" she questions aloud to herself, reading the screen.

' _PLEASE ENTER THE FOLLOWING: NAME?'_

"... Ra- Rachel Gardner," she murmurs hesitantly, not seeing a keyboard to type it into. However, the computer acts as if it heard her words, her name flickering on screen and then flashing away once more.

' _AGE?'_

"...13." It feels a bit invasive to give the beeping creature this information, but she finds herself doing it anyways with a bit of curiosity.

The next question brings her to a pause, though.

' _WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?'_

What is _she_ doing here? She wishes she knew that much. Still, she fights to recall, dredging up her memories, a solemn tone entering her voice.

"I'm… pretty sure I was at a hospital. And when I came to, I was here." The answer sounds as hollow and unsatisfying to her as it must sound to the machine, she thinks dryly.

' _WHY?'_

She blinks, taken off guard. "...?"

' _WHY?'_ insists the machine, sounding somehow agitated. ' _WHY? WHY?'_

' _WHY THE HOSPITAL?'_

A pang of something shoots through her chest, and she backs away from the computer, her fingers clutching into the edge of her jacket tensely.

Her words feel dry, her gaze clouding little, but her voice is matter of fact.

"...I… I saw someone…" she mumbles, forcing herself to say it.

"—I saw someone die. It happened right in front of me. So, I was brought here… for counseling."

Though she says it, the memory of the incident is blurred in her mind's eye, like it's just out of her reach. Just thinking about it, though, makes her flinch, shying away from it.

' _WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW?'_

...Do?

She clears her throat, and replies, "...Leave this place. I wanna see my mom and dad..."

' _-ENTRY COMPLETE. DISTRIBUTING PLAY START KEY CARD.'_

A series of beeps follows, and she hears a whir beside her, Turning her head, she spots a card exiting the little slot nearby. A moment after it's finished being created, the computer itself shuts down again, returning to a lifeless shell once more.

 _I don't understand anything about this at all,_ Ray frowns a bit. _Was all of that necessary?_

 _Well, it did give me that card at least…_

Retrieving the card, she examines it. _This should work on the gate out there, I think. But… I wonder what it means by 'Play Start'...?_

Unable to answer the continuous festering questions in her mind, she pockets the item and leaves the room, only glancing back one more time.

Back at the gate, she pulls it out and inserts the small key into the slot. It beeps, and then the gate slides open for her, allowing her through.

 _Thank goodness. Maybe now I can get out of here. I want to get home, to mom and dad…_

She nearly runs down the hall to the elevator, but when she reaches it, she tilts her head in surprise.

"It only has… an up button…?"

 _How strange. So then, does that mean I'm underground somewhere? That's odd… I don't remember being in this basement._

A large influx of static overhead startles her, and she jumps back from the elevator in shock. Crackling through an intercom system throughout the building, she hears a voice begin to speak.

" _The girl on the bottom floor is hereby a sacrifice. All floors please make preparations."_

A sacrifice…?! Ray inhales sharply, her heart sinking immediately.

" _Beyond here is the play area._

— _The gate will now open."_

A bell chiming, like it's signalling the start of something unknown, rings throughout, and she finds herself quickly pressing the up button, wanting to get out. Dread fills her entire body.

 _That announcement just now… what could it have meant…?_

Not wanting to know the answer, she enters the opened elevator and jumps inside. As the doors close, her hands grip into tight fists at her sides.

 _I have to get out of here. I have to find mom and dad._

 _...What does all of this mean…?_

 _...All I know now, is that I'm going up. Will I find the exit here?_

Not knowing what to expect, she braces herself, and rides the elevator in silence, unknowing of what would come or befall her, only wishing to be allowed to return to her family.

She never could've known the awful things that would await her.

 **.x.X.x.**

"— _The gate will now open."_

"...Hehehe."

Something shifts in the dim darkness, and something metallic catches the light, glinting as its owner drapes themselves backwards, becoming a bit more tense.

A wide, sinister, heart-stoppingly malicious smile cuts over their face, and they laugh low to themselves, clearly finding something funny in the dim silence of their room. Picking themselves up from their seat, they grip their long, well-used weapon in hand.

" _..._ 'Bout time. Was starting to get fuckin' bored twiddling my thumbs down here...

"—Finally things can get interestin'."

* * *

 **A/N: not beta'd.**

 **WARNING:** This fic will contain strong uses of language, gore, and whatnot. It is a novelization of the indie horror game Angels of Death. I will be following the game almost completely, however, I will spin it in my own way and I WILL take creative liberties with it when I choose, etc. I will write it as I played it. This is to be a more fleshed out version of it, after all. And yes, I do see Zack and Ray romantically pretty much, so be aware of that as I write.

ANYWAYS. Now that that's out of the way; hi guys. It's been awhile, right? I should be writing Malism, but uh... yeah. Anyways. Another WIP is here to be forgotten (laugh). However, this was surprisingly easy to write, so hopefully I will update it more and stuff. Don't expect a whole lot though. I _would_ like to know what you think.

So yeah, here's this. I won't drag the a/n forever, but I missed my readers and I hope this might be something interesting to read as we go. And if you haven't played the game, I highly, highly recommend it.

Alright, well, I said my piece. I love y'all, and read on, my dudes.

~disclaimer~. I do not own Angels of Death, nor its characters. I just adore it.


	2. The Killer On B6

Anxiously playing with her fingers, Ray watches the elevator doors slide open in front of her.

The surroundings on the next floor are a lot different than what she had just become accustomed to below. As she steps out, she's hit with a musty, dank, near mold-like scent mixed with garbage and dirt.

She quickly realizes where the source of most of the nasty smell was coming from- big dumpsters on either side of her lined against the wall.

 _Ugh… it smells awful down here._

Fighting the urge to hold her nose, she wanders forward and then stops reflexively upon seeing an actual street in her path. She glances around to find an exit or entrance, or at least a reason for the street, but it seems to simply be there as decoration.

An odd choice of decor, but she can't imagine that the people who come here care much for how things look. Especially since it seems like hardly anyone has come through here at all. It looks just as abandoned out here the floor below, if not a lot dirtier.

She goes to turn around, maybe try and reach the next floor, but she halts. Immediately she realizes that the elevator has stopped here, with no option to move on. She must be stuck here.

Turning around again and frowning at the unfriendly place, her brain whirs with thought. _Am I inside a building…? There's really something wrong here. Anyway… where's the way out, then?_

Slowly she starts moving, down the darkened hall in front of her. It's not exactly the path she wants to follow, but right now, she has little to no choice.

When she reaches near the end of the hallway, a strange clatter from nearby brings her to a stop.

 _What was that…?_

 _I've gotta hurry… I don't feel very safe here._ Shivering a bit and drawing her jacket in around her torso, she turns the corner, hoping not to see anything suspicious. Thankfully, her prayer is answered— but what she does see only adds questions onto questions.

It's simply more and more unfamiliar territory, dirty, cluttered, and a bit unnerving. She exhales, becoming a little more agitated.

 _...I don't recognize this place at all… Why am I here?_

As she questions herself, her eyes catch something pinned up onto the wall. A slightly torn and battered newspaper…?

 _That newspaper… could it shed some light on this place?_ Foolish as it might seem, she edges closer to the soiled and yellow paper, struggling to read what's left of it.

"' _A Reckless Murder?'_ " she whispers aloud, eyes scanning it quickly. Some of the words are hard to make out, some worn away or too faded. Still, she can make out the gist of most of the words.

"' _The body of a male was found… The body has gaping wounds seemingly inflicted by a sharp blade. Authorities are treating it as a murder. Since last month, a string of similar murders have taken place in the state… No association or similarities have been drawn with the victim, so nearby residents are asked to exercise caution.'"_

 _An article about a murder… Why is this here? Nothing makes sense in this place._ Ray rereads the passage a few times, hoping to make it add up to something in her memories, but nothing registers.

 _...No clues after all. Guess I'll keep moving._

Sighing to herself, she moves past it. A cool breeze rolls along her bare legs as she walks by what looks like a very dark alley. For a moment she ponders wandering down that way, but it quickly is wiped from her mind. It gives her the creeps- maybe she'd traverse it later, though.

Speeding up her pace, Ray continues down the long stretch of road. The lack of other human beings is starting to wear on her, and the further in she goes, the more decrepit and ominous the whole place seems. There's trash and graffiti every which where, like troublemakers had come through and vandalized the place.

Something up ahead catches her eye, and she struggles to make out what it is in the dim yellow lighting around her- until it causes her to inhale sharply in surprise.

In front of her lies what seems to be a crossroads. To her left is another hall leading away, and to her right is what look like a boarded up storefront, the neon colored edges of it a strange contrast to the otherwise brown and discolored surroundings. But what really captures here attention is the street blockades in front of her- and behind those, the massive amount of deep red splotches tossed along the walls and ground.

Moving closer, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up with a trickle of fear running through her system.

 _Is that… is that what I think it is…?_

 _It looks like… blood…_

Why… Why would blood be littered across the floor here like this? The continual questions continue to add up in her mind, piling up insurmountably at this rate with no sign of answers.

Nearby happens to be another alley, but right now, she just wants freed from this place. She's starting to feel paranoid- like someone is watching her from somewhere.

 _...I've got to hurry and get out of here._

Getting herself composed once more, she quickly heads down the brighter-lit alley and maneuvers her way through, following it to the right and praying that she might find reprieve somewhere.

Amidst her wandering she turns a corner, and to her surprise, she realizes that what lies in front of her is another elevator. Instantly she hurries near the battered looking, vandalized device, nearly running in her haste to get out. Yet, though she tries to pry open the door with both hands, it doesn't budge. No keyhole or unlocking mechanism lies in her sight, and her heart sinks.

 _...It has an emergency exit mark. This is definitely the elevator passage. But it won't open… There's not even a keyhole for me to even try to open it! What do I do now…?_

Fighting off a way of despair, she turns around, steeling her determination. This can't be it. There has to be another way to get out of here, or some way to unlock it in this place, and she buckles up what courage she has and heads back the way she came, inspecting things as she goes to make sure she didn't miss anything important. She explores the abandoned floor, eventually finding herself in a wide room and with a door off to her left.

Of course, she quickly tries to open it, but discovers it to be locked almost immediately. With a huff, she gives up on it for now. _There could be a key somewhere, right? There's got to be other places I haven't looked._

 _How big is this place…?_ she questions as she wanders, her footsteps the only sound other than her soft breathing. _And why is there no one around?_

There has to be someone here, _any_ one- but not a single face appears to offer her aid. Her feet wander aimlessly through the hall back the way she came, facing up against the boarded up room again.

A noise to her left draws her eyes to the small, secluded dark alley she hadn't explored yet. She edges closer, trying to figure out what it might be.

 _...Those sounds… is there an animal in here…?_

Curiously she explore the dark alley, putting aside her fear and following the small noises. She finds herself in an open room, with a door up ahead and various trash littered about. A dirtied mattress is off to one side, and there's a few lockers to the right. As she approaches the door, she hears more of the tiny, shrill noises again, and looks up to spot the source.

Half-hidden in a hole dug into the top of the wall, a small gray bird chirps its heart out above her, rustling around on its perch but not attempting to fly away. Eyes widening, Ray steps closer, mesmerized by the cute creature.

"What are you doing in a place like this…?' she coos to the bird, her voice light and friendly. "Come here, little bird."

The avian chirps in response, like it understands what she's saying, yet makes no move to come down. It flutters around inside it's hiding place, as if anxious.

"...Are you weak?" Ray realizes aloud.

 _How can I get it down from there? I wonder if it's hungry…_

 _Maybe I can find some way to get it down, or some food to lure it down…?_

Feeling determined to help the small creature, she starts off with a side mission to ease the bird down from the hole.

 _There was another alley down the way, right? I should go check that out too._ Using that as her guide, she puts on some speed and jogs her way there, no longer feeling as afraid as before. _Perhaps there's something to having a purpose that makes you ignore if you're scared…?_

A few minutes later, she traipses down the other darkened alley she'd only glanced down before. Following the light, she arrives in a musty smelling small room. Another couple of barricades sit in the middle of the floor, pointlessly surrounding more crimson stains like the ones she'd seen earlier, as well as a jagged hole cracked deep into the wall. There's more of the disorganized graffiti along the room too, and a newspaper article not far from her feet.

Edging forward cautiously, she reaches down, picking up the dirty paper and reading over what it has to say.

' _A Back Alley Murder. A nearby resident was found in a town's back alley. It's believed to be a teenage boy, but his identity is unknown. The body sustained severe lacerations, and the incident is being treated as one of several serial murders.'_

Letting the paper once again float from her fingers to the unclean floor, she swallows hard, eyes flickering back to the doorway hesitantly.

 _...Serial murders…_

There's a gnawing, creeping feeling in the back of her mind, something beginning to blossom and plant seeds into her thoughts, but she can't put her finger on what it might be. The continual clues and strange messages she keeps encountering have only filled her with more and more confusion.

 _Is it… could it be possible, that there might be a murderer in here with me?_

 _No- that's crazy. Why would there be a killer down here? But… But that might explain why I'm here, wouldn't it?_

Trying to shake off her inhibition, she clears her head. _That's not what matters right now- if I think about it and needlessly worry, I'll only have a harder time escaping._

Something softly catching the light draws her eyes, and she realizes that something is faintly glinting in the large crevice in the wall. Allowing herself to move toward it, she only pauses when she steps on something unnatural under her feet. Glancing down, her stomach immediately recoils.

Those nasty reddish-brown stains… she's stepping right on it.

"...!" She fights for a second to keep her composure, horrified and feeling her body dry heave for a moment in disgust. The smell of it, that which has once mixed with the dirt-ridden garbage reek, is now overpowering with her right on top of it.

 _The smell of blood… it's so strong._

Forcing herself to keep going, she falls to her knees near the wall- carefully avoiding the bloodstains as much as she can- and dips her slender fingers into the crack, finding it to be a little more difficult than she thought to even fit her own small hand within- but determined to reach it, she managed to loop a finger through part of the shining object and draw it out.

A small, bronze key drops to the floor, and she scoops it up into her now-filthy hands. She eyes it with thought, questioning why it would even be placed in such an odd hiding spot.

 _This key… What door would this go to? Wait! There was the one from before- the locked one down the hall. It's worth a shot to use it there, right? Since the elevator door doesn't have a keyhole… Maybe I can find the mechanism to open the elevator with this!_

Gripping her new glimmer of hope in hand, she stands up, prepared to leave at once- and then she notices some smaller writing, off to the side of the crack that she had practically ignored. Ray squints at it, trying to read the blackened scribbles.

' _Someone befitting awaits you on each of the floors. Each are bound by a rule to never leave their floor. If you value your life, you have no choice but to ascend the floors.'_

Someone… 'befitting'...?

The newspapers about the murders flash through Ray's mind, and her eyes widen as she starts to piece together small parts of this large puzzle laid before her. The 'play start' comment when she began this journey, the clues laid around…

 _Could I run into a killer here in this place somewhere? There's someone on each floor, but I haven't seen anyone yet. Could that be true?_ Swallowing, she grips the key in a tight fist, bracing herself.

 _...Maybe there's no one here after all. Maybe it's lying just to scare me._

 _Either way… I don't want to meet anyone on this floor._

 **.x.X.x.**

Back at the locked door from before, she hastily inserts the key, twisting it with hope.

It clicks, and unlocks for her. Instantly she feels relieved.

However, once she steps inside, the relief is quick to leech away. The place looks like a rundown kitchen from what she can tell. Leftover dishes are in various places, boxes left empty of food lie on the floor, and in the middle of the room is another blocked off space where blood colors the ground and part of the steel counter. A few lockers sit off to the left, and another door lies at the far end of the room.

 _Somehow, this place feels… touched. Like someone has recently used it,_ she notes to herself. Moving further into the room, another newspaper on the wall catches her interest, along with a tray on the counter beneath it with a full syringe sitting abandoned.

Another article about murder, she realizes upon closer inspection of the paper. _There's so many of these here. Are they supposed to be telling me that the person responsible for these murders is on this floor…?_

This time, the story is about a man named Jon Smithee who was killed after having boasted about his new car. Ray frowns at it for awhile, not wanting to put too much thought into what it says, then tries to put it out of her mind, instead walking to the other door and cautiously trying the handle.

The knob easily turns, and she wanders into what appears to be a dining room. A large steel table sits in the center of the room surrounded by matching benches, and to her right is a row of closets and cupboards, even a ratty couch and a few soiled mattresses in the corner. The shelves are filled with dishes and food, making her stomach rumble in anticipation, but as she gets a closer look at them, she realizes with disappointment that most if not all of it has expired long ago.

Yet another door lies ahead, but when she tries to open it, her luck seems to have run out. It's solidly locked, unfortunately for her.

 _What do I do now?_

Without much other choice, she starts rooting through the room. Starting at the biggest box near her, she finds that such a large container only holds a single bag of unopened snacks.

 _What a waste for a box this big to be empty,_ she thinks regretfully. _Heck, it even looks like I could fit_ _myself_ _into it, with room to spare._

 _Still, maybe I can save these snacks for later. I'm a little hungry now, but I don't want to eat them all right away, especially if they're the only good food around._

 _Wait- that bird! Maybe I could lure the bird down with these?_

Jumping to the conclusion that it's worth a shot, Ray quickly runs a scan through the remaining closets, drawers and everything in the room and the next, but finds nothing more to help herself. Deciding to give it another once over again later on, she hurries back to where she found the bird, her excitement to rescue it filling her heart.

"Little bird, I'm back!" she calls out to the creature upon arrival, spotting the bird in the same place it had been when she left it. "Will you come down if I give you some food…?"

She pulls the bag of snacks out from her purse and opens it. Pouring some of them into her hand, she raises it toward the little animal, urging it toward her.

She's surprised when the bird practically throws itself from it's perch in an effort to reach her, fluttering it's wings as fast as it can. It doesn't make it far, however; spiraling to the ground unceremoniously, it flaps its wings helplessly upon the floor, chirping in distress.

 _Is it hurt?_ The questions rings through her mind as she steps closer, answering it a moment later as she spots the bird's left wing. The appendage is laced in blood, looking battered and cut, the wound gruesome to look at. _It looks so painful…_

Without thinking she hurries to its side, kneeling down beside the pitiful bird. She offers a tiny smile to it, trying to be comforting.

"Are you hungry, little one?"

She pours some of the snacks onto the ground in front of her, and the bird chirps in what sounds like happy response. It starts pecking at the small bits with vigor.

"Good. Eat it all up now," she whispers, admiring the bird with softness. "...You're so precious…"

Already her brain is working, and her gaze is drawn back to that wing. That broken, motionless wing…

This won't do at all. That wing is a problem. A flaw.

 _Sating its hunger won't help it fly…_

Already leaning in toward the bird, she whispers soothingly to it as she scoops it into her arms.

"I gotta make you all better. It's alright…"

A hand, gripping one wing… the other holding the struggling bird in place…

"... _hold still._ "

 **.x.X.x.**

"There you go. Now you should be just fine."

Ray smiles lovingly at the little bird, whom sits pecking away at the crumbs left on the nasty dirt floor. The wing looks good as new, still matted with some blood but now no longer seeping or open, and she beams with pride.

"...but I worry about you, little bird. So you're coming with me, okay?"

Again she pulls the bird into her arms, and it chirps at her, struggling a bit in her grasp. She gently keeps it safe half hidden in her jacket.

Moving to leave the room, before she's reached the exit, a loud noise on the other side of the wall jolts her with surprise. It was such a disconcerting change to the unaltered silence lately that she's taken completely off guard.

 _That sound, I think it came from the other side. But wasn't that boarded up? Maybe it's just rats._

Glancing down at the panicking bird in her hold, she frowns. _It's frightening the bird, though… what was it…?_

With even more hesitance, she picks up her pace and enters the bigger hall once more. No sooner has she stepped out from the passage, however, than something triggers behind her. A rush of wind, and she's barely turned her head to look before a thick brick wall slides across the opening, sealing her off from it completely.

 _It's closed… but how-?_

"A-Ah! Wait!" Without warning the bird struggles free from her, somehow loosening her grasp on it and fluttering away from her haphazardly, dropping to the ground and hopping away, right in front of the boarded up door nearby. "No! I have to get out of here, stop!"

She tries to reach out for the bird, but it jumps away from her, evading her. She tries for a slower, gentler approach, hoping not to frighten it away.

"It's alright. Don't be scared…" Again it flies itself just far enough out of her hold, and she relentlessly pursues it. "Wait…!"

She seems to chase it in circles before it finally stops in front of the abandoned door once more, and she creeps up on it very slowly, noticing how panicked the poor bird seems. _Is it afraid of me? Or is there something else that's making it so upset?_

"Don't be scared, little bird," she coos to it slowly. "Let's leave this place together… okay?"

It chirps at her, and slowly starts to approach her. She smiles at it, extending her arms to take hold of it—

 _ **CRASH!**_

A mind-shatteringly loud explosion of wood, and splinters spray over her. The bird lets out a single screeching chirp, and Ray's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as a figure steps down into the debris-laden floor, crushing it beneath his feet.

All she can absorb is the face covered in bandages and the psychotic wide grin carved into it, the hoodie covered in blood, their wild, strangely colored eyes as they grip their sharp scythe menacingly…

...Their laughter, etched in dark mirth and insanity, echoes out through the room like a harsh, dissonant melody.

"Wipe that stupid, smug look off your face," he cackles, enjoyment etched across his wicked grin.

"—And surrender to despair!"

* * *

 **A/N: Unbeta'd.**

Raw content, m'dude.

Annnd here's the next update already. Like uh... wow. Usually I can hardly write so much in this kind of sitting. Ofc the next update will be farther along the line for sure, because I plan to stockpile chapters or something (LMAO cause that always works out amirite guys-)

Anyways, so here's chapter two. Longer, grittier, and we've finally introduced the man of the hour. I can't believe this fic's at 5k already and I'm only this far. It's gonna be a chunky adventure for sure. Just so you know, this fic is not top priority for me, but I do enjoy writing it, and it makes me a bit motivated to continue, so that's cool. Maybe it'll relight my fire.

So yeah, ladies and gentleman, hope you enjoyed reading this mess. Oh- and by the way, all the dialogue is going to be straight from the game or slightly modified to fit my needs. Sorry if anything seems wonky, too- I'm playing through the game as I go just to make sure I can add details and whatever and if anything seems out of order, that's probably why. Sorry in advance.

Thanks for reading!

~Disclaimer~ I love Ray and Zack, but I don't own them.


	3. Blind To The Truth

She's never felt so much intense fear before. It nearly wracks her entire body immobile as she stares at the horrifyingly strange and malicious person in front of her.

Ray has never seen someone look so depraved, so… bloodthirsty. There's no other way to describe it. In this moment, as her eyes stare into his, cyan blue against a mix of gold and brown, she can feel it— the underlying sense that he wants to hurt her, that he would not be merciful, and that he would enjoy inflicting pain on anything that moves.

She can't think. She can't even breathe as he starts to lift up his scythe, his large hands wrapped tightly around the long handle. The blade, nearly black with encrusted dirt but still clearly sharp, glints forebodingly in the light.

If she could, she'd try to speak, to reason with him, to say anything that might save her. But her tongue is tied in knots and nothing comes to mind. She's drawing a complete blank, but somehow, she feels like even if she _were_ to say anything, it wouldn't save her anyway.

This man… he gives off the feeling of a predator, and she has become his prey.

"I'll give you a three second head start," he says gleefully, staring her down, relishing in her horrified expression. "How far can you run?!"

Her mouth moves, but she can't do anything. Her feet begin to edge backward of their own volition, and he inches closer to her.

"Now cry! Scream, beg for your life! _Show_ me the _despair_ on your face!" Her stricken expression pleases him, and he urges her on, readying his blade and watching how she turns even paler than before. " _Yes!_ _ **More!**_ "

 _I have to go- I have to get away-!_

Flipping around in her desperation, Ray forces all of her strength into her legs and _runs_ , the sound of his unforgiving laughter chasing her all the way down the hall.

It's like he's right behind her no matter how quickly she moves. She doesn't know where to go, or where to hide, or if there's anything she can do to escape him. Her heart has become a black hole.

"Three…!"

Although he's given her three seconds of advantage, he may as well be breathing down her neck. She's caught at the fork between the elevator passage and the hall to the kitchen area.

 _Hide- I've got to hide, I've got to keep him away from me!_

"Two…!" His voice is coming ever nearer, and she can hear his footsteps already catching up to her. She chooses her left and slams her shoulder into the edge of the wall in her attempt to get away. The short throbbing pain barely fazes her in her escape. The door, the door, it's so close…!

"One!"

She's barely through the door before his scythe crashes down deep into the ground behind her, narrowly missing her by a few inches. Ray would've screamed if she could unfreeze her vocal cords.

Slamming the thick metal door shut before he can loosen his weapon from the dirt, she runs to the other door and closes it fast too. To her dismay, there's no lock on the door for her to use.

Now back in the room where she'd found the bag of snacks, her frantic eyes scan everything, looking for any kind of hiding place where he can't find her. She can hear him searching for her, his quick steps alerting her to her lack of time.

 _Wait! That box where I found those snacks, it's definitely big enough for me to fit in there! It's my only choice!_

She practically flings herself into the box and closes it over her head, encasing her in the pitch blackness, and only a second later does she hear the door swing open and clatter forcefully against the wall.

Ray tries painfully to keep her breathing low and shallow, being as quiet as she can and praying to God that he can't find her, that he won't look in the room for her.

 _Please… please..._

His footsteps, now heavy and slowed, begin making their way through the room. Her fingers are clasped over her mouth, desperate to stay silent, and she winces when the footsteps stop right in front of her hiding space.

"Huh?" Ray hears rustling amongst his disbelieving tone and more footsteps, moving further away. "Where the hell did that bitch go?"

Her heartbeat is painfully loud in her ears, nearly drowning out his words. Still, she can hear him move toward the locked door from before.

"In this room?" The sounds of a doorknob jangling futilely, and more muttered curses. "Shit- it's locked. Guess I'll unlock it."

There's more sounds, and keys jingle as they enter the room, the door quietly closing behind them. Ray waits a few more moments before allowing herself to breathe once more.

 _Is it gone…?_

Hesitantly, she pushes herself out of the box, slipping out and back to her feet. Her legs are tired from so much running, and she feels sore from having banged into the wall earlier.

 _I hope it doesn't come back. I've got to escape this place before it finds me again. If it catches me…_

The clear, simple answer to that sentence runs through her mind over and over, the articles about serial killers a reminder of what kind of hell she's entered.

 _...It's not safe here. I'm not safe. This place, it… it really must be filled with monsters._

Another thought, one that had been lost in her panic, surfaces in her mind. Her brows crease with worry suddenly, and she frowns.

 _Oh… The bird..._

 _Did it survive? I need to go check on it. I hope it's alright._

She risks another glance at the door where that… thing, had left through. _It's too soon to go in there, he might still be close by. I'll go see the bird first._

Deeply inhaling for a moment to steel herself once more, she heads off in search of the bird.

 **.x.X.x.**

"...Oh no."

After stealthily finding her way back to where she'd first encountered that person, she didn't have to look far to find the bird. No… it was right there, front and center, for her to see.

The remains of the bird lie scattered along the floor. Feathers are strewn all over, most glazed in the cooled crimson blood pooling underneath the body. And the bird itself… has been split into two jagged pieces, the light-colored wings bathed in deep red. She can only gaze upon the pitiful creature, hurt etched along her features.

 _How awful. At least… I want to give it a proper burial._

Leaning down gently, she scoops up the cold, glistening wet pieces of the bird in her hands, softly cradling it as if it is still alive, and starts walking back. She recalls seeing a room just down the hall that had a shovel, and that's where she goes, eyes glued to the dismembered form of the bird.

 _I think I could make it have at least a decent grave. It deserves that much._

A few moments later, she's retrieved the shovel and set it nearby. Placing the bird on the ground, she continues to stare at it, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

It's just… there's something not right. She doesn't like it. This is wrong.

The bird shouldn't be buried like this. It doesn't even look like her little bird anymore. This gnarled mess… it's wrong.

 _...No. You're not my little birdie. Not like this. Not like_ _this._ _You shouldn't look like this. This… this is just cruel._

Her expression turns dark, eyes growing colder. Already, she reaching into her bag, hand wrapping around her most valuable and useful possession.

Her needle and thread.

 _...I've got to fix you, little birdie._

 _I'll make you… all better…_

The next few minutes are a blur in her mind. She can hardly remember it, but as she admires her handiwork with pride.

The bird no longer is in two. Instead, thick yarn is dashed throughout its body and wing, binding the severed pieces into one whole once more. She made sure to carefully even the pieces so it would look nearly perfect for her. She smiles with pride.

 _All better._

 _It's good as new._

 _All that's left now is to bury it…_

The shovel turns out to be heavier than she first thought, but she powers through the endeavor and manages to dig a deep enough hole to properly lay the bird within.

Once she'd finally laid the last shovelful of dirt onto the body, she remembers something. Glancing aside, she plucks a small silver key from the ground and places it in her pocket. When she had been piecing the bird's remains back together, the key had been lodged inside of it.

 _It's crazy to think a little bird like you had swallowed something like this._

She glances back at the small grave for just a moment, and for a second she feels strange. That feeling of being watched again flutters through her, but there's no one to be seen. And that scary figure from before hasn't shown itself either.

 _My only choice now lies in that room. The one they had unlocked and gone into. I hope that they're not there anymore…_

Apprehensively, she retraces her steps back to it, noting along the way the return of the dead silence. It's so ominous… like somewhere, the other shoe is waiting to drop— to crush her underneath it.

After a little bit, she's finally standing in front of that door. The memory of that crazed person's face flashes through her mind, along with the echo of his laughter. She waits, hand on the knob, trying to hear the sounds of anything from within. When all she can catch is silence, she softly twists the handle and walks inside.

Thankfully, nothing lies in wait to greet. The surroundings are much the same as before, various traffic-relate elements like cones, barricades, etc are around the area. However, nothing seem very important. Another door lies off to the right, and directly in front of her is what looks like a closed hatch.

 _Where does that door lead?_ She wonders, shuffling over and giving it a test turn. It opens easily in her hand, and when she peeks out, she recognizes the scenery.

 _Wait- this is the hall that leads to the elevator I came out onto this floor on,_ she realizes. _Does that mean… that 'person' is wandering around out there now? I'll have to be more careful in case they try to catch me again._

Shrinking backward and softly closing the door, she treads over to the hatch and kneels down, turning her head curiously. Just barely she can make out an engraved text near her feet.

 _Elevator Passage Control Room._

… _! This is the way I can make the elevator move again! The key to making it function has to be down here then._

She tries to open the hatch, but it doesn't budge no matter how hard she turns it. She frowns at it, until she notices a small keyhole hidden in the rusted metal.

 _It needs a key, then? Oh… wait. I have that key from the bird, would that be the right one?_

Ray already has the key withdrawn from her purse before thinking it through too much. Placing it in the lock, she twists it- and is rewarded with a resounding click.

 _It worked after all!_

Triumphant, she opens the hatch, the door a bit heavy but manageable. The passage down is dark, but a light at the bottom guides her as she grips the unstable ladder and makes her way below.

Once off the ladder, she faces a peculiar room. It smells of mold, and the dirt walls are covered with thick coiled wire.

 _What a strange place…_

Edging nearer to the end of the room, she sees a button switch covered in dust yet ladled with fingerprints. An inscription above it says 'Elevator Passage Gate'.

… _! This-!_

Raising a hand, she presses the button without a shred of hesitance. Immediately a settled 'thunk' triggers in the walls around her.

 _...I hope this means I can get the heck out of this place now,_ she hopes.

Scrambling back up the ladder, she makes haste for the door to her left once above again- but this time, when she twists the handle, it doesn't move.

 _Locked? But it was open just a few minutes ago._

 _...Did it come through here again?_

Backing away, she moves back the way she came the first time. Inches from the door, a rustling clatter makes her freeze in place.

 _...Someone's there…?_

Hesitantly, now filled with reservation, Ray moves into the next room. Thankfully nothing is there to surprise her, but the uneasiness in her chest won't leave.

 _I don't like this. I feel so…_

 _...scared…_

Pouring some speed into her steps, she enters the kitchen area and beelines for the exit. Fingers just barely wrapping around the handle, she hears a disturbing creak of metal and something large settling somewhere nearby. She shivers.

 _I've got to_ _hurry_ _!_

Ray practically tosses herself out the door, wanting to be out of that places as quickly as possible. Before she can take a breath, she hears it.

That _laugh._

...Right above her head.

Something falls from above, a loose rock or a metal chip that noisily rolls up against her boots, and Ray riskily looks up, her entire body already seizing up.

That man from before, the one who had chased her relentlessly, wielding that scythe, grins down at her from directly over her.

She gasps, the sound a sharp intake that almost becomes a wheeze. Flailing forward, she leaps a few feet away, rushing to be out from beneath them.

That echoing laughter rings in her ears as he drops down in front of the door, landing in a kneeling position, scythe gripped tightly in one bandaged hand. She takes a step backward as he rises languidly from the floor, completely at ease but with excitement etched over his hidden face.

" _Peek a boo!_ " he calls out. " _I've found you at last!_ "

 _No- no no no no…!_ The same thought grows larger and larger in her thoughts, overriding sensibility for a moment.

She's helpless as she watches him reach backward with his free hand, fumbling with the handle on the door. A realization in the back of her mind makes her register what he's doing before he even says anything.

"Well, I've locked the door," he comments, not taking his eyes off her. "I should've done that before!"

Gripping the sharp scythe in both hands, he grows offensive, raising it- and her instinct urges her to run. Run, run, run run run run-!

"No head start for you this time!" He cackles with mirth, and she nearly trips over her own feet as she reflexively moves back.

He launches himself toward her, and she barely manages to dodge the oncoming blade swipe, feeling the wind of it pass by her head. Throwing herself into her strides, she makes a run for it, her only hoping lying before her.

 _The elevator- I have to get to the elevator!_

"You can't run forever, you little bitch!" His taunting insults follow her, always just one step behind.

 _I can't die, not yet, I have to get out of here!_

The corners thwart her in her escape, but her panicked memory guides her to the door she needs. Somehow, just barely, she comes face to face with the elevator. Her hand slams against the button to open the doors, please, _please-_

" _Hooooooooooold it!_ " He yells, and she barely turns her head to see him raising the scythe over her, ready to sink it down into her back— and the doors open just in time.

She flies into the opened space and the doors clatter shut just as the tip of his scythe wedges itself between them. Ray presses herself to the back of the elevator as he wiggles it, his curses and anger audible even through the metal. The moment he frees the weapon, the elevator begins moving, leaving him behind.

The ride upwards feels like it lasts forever. Her heartbeat is a mile a minute. It's hard for her to believe that she even managed to live long enough to escape.

 _What was that thing…?_

 _Did I... really manage to outsmart a killer…?_

 _Thank god I didn't get caught..._

The ding of the elevator reaching the next floor reminds her of reality, and she steps out onto smooth tile. She's actually surprised by the massive difference between the dirt-encrusted and bloodied halls, and the now pristine surroundings.

The floor is a cool blue tile, and the vibe she gets here is still uneasy, yet more of a hospital feel. Somehow, it seems more like the hospital she was in before, unlike the last two floors.

 _...The quicker I'm out of here, the better,_ she decides. _Especially if there's a chance that I'll be followed…_

The thought unnerves her to no end, and she risks a look back at the elevator. It seems to no longer be functioning- it's stopped here with no intention of moving upward anymore.

 _This must mean that I have to find another elevator. ...I've got to find the way out soon._

Cautiously she moves forward, walking down the quiet hall and entering the next room. Even more of a surprise to her is the fact that it feels like an honest-to-god reception area, one she may have even seen before. Pale, unused white couches line up around the room, and a desk with a desktop computer that sits atop it. In the corner is a plant- but on closer inspection, she realizes it's a fake.

All in all, the experience is much less reviling than the one she'd previously encountered, thankfully. Yet it still carries the same air of unease, as if something unseen is wrong. Her eyes drift over the bright white walls, stopping upon a clock. The sight of it reminds her that she has no idea what time it is, nor where she is, or when she came here.

The clock, unfortunately, is no help. The hands have long since stopped, and she sighs, more than a little disappointed.

 _Here I was hoping that something remotely normal would make me feel better,_ she frowns.

Turning around, she starts to wander the side corridor to her left when a door, one she hadn't yet seen, opens up with a clatter. Breath catching in her throat, she takes a big step back as someone unknown comes through, seemingly in a rush.

They notice her instantly, coming to stop right before her. With them facing her like this, she can see their features clearly. Short, somewhat disorganized brown hair that messily sits over his forehead, and pale skin. He wears a pair of wire rim glasses, and something about his brown eyes seem… off. His right eye is more lifeless than the other, somehow.

Wearing a thick white doctor's coat, with a brown-vested shirt and pants to go with it, the man seems like an ordinary physician, even a little familiar to her somehow— but when he begins to approach her, she stumbles backwards, gearing herself to make a run for it again. Her memories of the killer from B6 resurface instantly.

"Wait, Rachel! It's me!"

The sound of her name upon his lips makes her eyes widen, her steps stilling as he reaches out to her. The man's face is contorted into a friendly, urging expression, as if to reassure her.

"...Huh?" she audibly says with confusion.

A flash of hurt crosses his features for just a moment.

"Do you not recognize me? I was the one who examined you." His brows knit together with concern, but his voice is soft, comforting. "Can you try to remember? I'm… I'm the doctor that gave you counseling."

Something clicks in the back of her mind, and one of her forgotten memories makes itself known. Staring at him, his name finally returns to her, and she understands why he feels somewhat familiar to her.

 _This man, I…_

 _The man who examined me…_

"Rachel? What's wrong?" He edges closer, filled with hesitance. "Look, it's- it's me! ...Doctor Danny."

 _Doctor… Danny…_

A hazy, filtered image of sitting alone with him in an office flutters through her thoughts, and she can hardly believe her eyes. The realization that this man is someone she knows, someone she recognizes— even someone she _trusted_ , is almost too much.

"...Could it be…?" she barely whispers. "Doctor Danny, my… my therapist…"

 _It's true. I know it is. I don't understand any of this, or why he's here, but it's got to be him._

"You're a little confused, aren't you? I don't blame you, however; this place is horrific…" he says, his expression lightening a little at her recognition. He even goes for a lightly joking tone. "But rest assured, it is I, your therapist… right?"

 _Right?_

 _Ahh, that's right… it has to be…_

"...Yes, doctor," she replies, and he instantly brightens.

"...Good. Besides all that- you're safe. That's important." Danny nods to himself, lightly reaching up to toy with his striped tie.

Ray looks down then, her blonde hair framing her face, as she musters her words. "...Doctor… what on Earth is this place…?"

Becoming a little more riled, she takes a tiny step forward, trying to keep her voice calm. "And- and something was _chasing_ me. What… what _was_ that thing?"

She knows, she already _knows_ in the pit of her stomach what it was, but she can't bring it upon herself to confess the truth. It's too unreal, too frightening even after what she went through. But…

Danny grows silent, and she peers at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. He takes his time to pick his words before answering her.

"I'm not entirely sure myself," he admits. "But… the thing chasing you, well… it probably was the psycho killer."

His words pang down on her hard, slamming the reality home about just how awful of a situation she's wound up in. Still, she swallows back her fears, pressing on.

"...Psycho killer?" she inquires. "What do you mean?"

Glancing away, Danny frowns. "This place, it's like... A site for some game. Be hunted by a killer, and be killed if you're caught. It says that it chases its victims, like playthings."

 _...How horrible. Can that really be how it is?_

Another thought, and she eyes him with a bit of concern. "...Are you not hurt, doctor?"

 _Could he have had a run-in with the killer, too?_

Shaking his head, he brushes aside the notion, meeting her gaze. "Not at all. I was here on this floor when I came to. It looks like there's no other staff besides me."

 _So there's no one else here either. I see…_

The weight of the situation falls heavily on her shoulders, and she grips the edges of her jacket tightly in both hands, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

"D-doctor, I'm… I'm absolutely petrified," she mumbles. It feels weak to admit such a thing, but she can't help how frightening this all is.

Danny's expression softens, and he offering a reassuring smile. "...Rachel, it's perfectly natural to be scared."

Straightening up to his full height, he runs a few fingers through his hair. "At any rate, let's get going."

When Ray seems confused by his statement, he adds on. "If possible, I'd like to get out of this ordeal alive with you."

The thought of traveling with someone familiar again plants another small seed of hope in her chest. Her body relaxes a bit, and she nods in agreement.

"...Yes, doctor."

"Good, good. Let's move on, then."

The doctor walks over to her and slips an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her along, and she allows herself to be swept away by his long strides. She takes comfort in his presence.

Ray doesn't notice the way he looks at her, his strange eyes trained on her—

And she doesn't catch the way his smile freezes in mirth upon his lips.

* * *

 **A/N: Unbeta'd.**

Here we are. These chapters just get longer and longer. This is purely unintentional ofc.

I've been enjoying my time writing this story, actually. The updates are, of course, going to slow down like I said. But I'm super impatient and I just finished this chapter today, so- so I want to throw it out anyways because whynot. Better to have it out there than not.

By the way, I'm going to also be switching POVS for Zack and Ray as per story entails. I also hope to write some offshoot scenes outside of this fic because I just want to, pfpf.

I hope I'm doing the game justice so far. Thanks for reading, and if you've got the time, a review fuels me and gives me more incentive to write. A follow does the same, haha.

Read on~.

~Disclaimer~ I own nothing but my ability to write, not AOD.


	4. Joining The Devil's Advocate

"I think we need a key for the gate," Danny tells her. "I'm fairly sure it's in the examination room I was in. I was in the process of looking for it when I heard some steps- your arrival."

The two hadn't made it far at all. Of course, a large gate blocked them from passing through the hall to continue on to the exit. The doctor, however, had already anticipated this.

Ray follows him into the room, mulling over the chances of his presence in her head. Surely it can't be just a coincidence that he would be here, right? For her, and her therapist, to end up in this same hellish situation… who could be responsible for this?

Not to mention she doesn't like the idea of the _killer_ from the floor below somehow finding his way up here. The elevator had seemed to stop functioning once she had reached B5, but could he reactivate it?

She doesn't want to find out.

"Go ahead, look around- it has to be here somewhere," Danny instructs her, moving off to scour some shelves. Left to her own devices, she eyes the room, hesitantly beginning to scan it for signs of the key.

It seems no different than any ordinary hospital room. An untouched cot sits in the far right corner, hidden away by a divider. Regular medical equipment as well as some medication sits collecting dust in a glass case nearby, and when she moves to inspect it, the doctor stops her.

"This equipment is old," he informs her, frowning a little. "It's a good idea to keep your hands off it. You don't want your eyes to get hurt, right?"

She nods, a little perturbed by the strange comment, but takes his word for it. She'd be no help to anyone if she got hurt.

His comment about eyes, however, makes something about the room painfully obvious. While she looks high and low for the key, more and more similarities to the equipment and procedures start connecting.

 _All of this equipment and research, it seems to be for… eye surgeries? All of it has something to do with eyes…_

It's a little creepy, to be frank, but she attempts to pay it no mind. She digs around near a small metal desk with another computer on it, and something shining on the seat catches her attention. The key.

"Nice job, Rachel. I'm pretty sure I was sitting there." Without warning, the doctor comes up behind her, nearly causing her to jump. She turns around to look at him, and he reaches out to take the key, placing it into his pocket.

"You didn't try to escape?" She blinks, the question slipping out before she can stop it. His brows knit together, but he offers a smile.

"Well, I was worried about you… Besides, you've got a good head on your shoulders. I knew you'd make it this far. Come on, let's get that gate open, shall we?"

Danny's already pulling her along before she can say much at all. Still, the way he spoke sounded so… odd. Like he had been expecting her to arrive. But that's not possible, right?

 _He woke up recently he said, and- wait… Didn't he say he had the key in his pocket before it had been lost?_ A lot of confusing questions light up in her mind, but she swipes them away, trying to make the most out of such a negative situation. At least he's someone she's familiar with, and can trust. That's what matters. Doubting him like this isn't going to do anything but make her more paranoid than before.

Now in front of the gate, the therapist dips the key into the lock and gives it a turn, easily opening it. He smiles at her, replacing the key into his coat and extending a hand her way.

"Maybe the exit is further toward the back? Let's proceed... With caution," he tacks on.

"R-right." She nods, and lightly takes his hand in hers. His large hand encompasses hers easily, in a grip a little too tight, but his friendly gaze stops her from protesting.

They walk in silence down the hall. They pass by doors in the fluorescent light, but he makes no motion to stop and check them. They make it halfway down the hall before he comes to a stop in front of another corridor. She doesn't understand why until she takes in the bigger picture- a giant, thick glass panel covering the entire open entry leading to the other half of the walkway. Danny chuckles low to himself, in a mirthless way that feels a tad hollow.

"We're glassed in. As fate would have it... you and I are trapped," he confesses.

 _Don't say that,_ she pleads internally. _Please don't say that. I don't want to be down here forever._

They move toward the side corridor, but it proves just as fruitless; another metal gate keeps them from moving forward. The doctor lets out a little sigh and shrugs his shoulders a bit, glancing down at her once more.

"...This way seems to be locked, too. Perhaps we should… look elsewhere, for now?" His brown eyes peer into hers, prying a bit more than she likes as he speaks.

At her clear discomfort, he squeezes her hand a little more, trying to be reassuring. "We'll be fine. If we stay together and take our time, maybe it'll lead to something good? Something good for the both of us!" he beams.

 _Good?_ Ray's skepticism flourishes in her thoughts, instantly disbelieving the very idea. _How could something good come of anything in this place? And something good for both of us? What would possibly make this experience any less frightening?_

"Come now," he tugs her hand slightly, toward the nearest closed door. "Let's check the other rooms for the key. It was my mistake for passing them by in my haste, but- oh, I was in such a hurry for your sake."

"Alright…" Her agreement sounds completely fine to his ears, but she knows she's starting to become even more disturbed with every moment she spends down in this place. But wouldn't he know what's best? He _was_ her therapist, after all. Doctor Danny must be confident they can escape to be so calm right now. That's what she chooses to believe, anyhow.

Walking into the first room, Ray comes face-to-face with a large coiled wire wall. It stretches from one end of the room almost to the other, leaving just enough of a space to leave a door-sized entrance. Otherwise, the room itself is rather barren. A bed sits in the middle of it, and it's surrounded by thick steel rails - like it was to keep someone contained within.

"This must be a private room," Danny comments, seeming uninterested.

"For patients?" she asks.

He pauses.

"...Yeah. A special one," he murmurs after a moment.

He offers nothing further, so she drops the subject. Together they explore the room, but there's little to note. An emergency button sits in the corner, but it seems to have been pushed in too hard- it's broken and unusable. Blinking camera sit in the corners, a familiar sight after all this time. Still, it sends a little chill down her spine.

The only thing of interest in the entire room happens to be writing dug into the wall, reminiscent of some of the graffiti she'd seen torn by someone on B6.

' _Do you know what your heart wishes for?'_

The opening line draws her closer, and she scans the passage, eyes narrowing in thought.

' _...Is it desire? If that is your impulse, then there's no point to resist. For being here, you possess no such essence. However, every wish has its price.'_

'— _Just don't break the rules.'_

Ray tilts her head. "Rules…?"

The doctor taps a finger against his chin, thinking hard. "There must be rules for this place," he ponders. "For instance- that guy chasing you hasn't followed you all the way here, right? There's gotta be some set of rules this place follows."

His deduction comforts her a little, but still feels hollow. Still, what he says matches up with what she already knows, from reading another note down below. Does this mean that scythe-wielding demon won't come for her after all?

 _If only I could be so lucky_ , she frowns.

Pointing out another sentence of the message, she glances at him. "...'What do we wish for?' What does that mean?"

Danny's face grows a little colder, and something changes behind his eyes that sends a little sliver of ice through her bloodstream.

"Well, different strokes for different folks, I guess," he jokes, though the effect of it is lost by her discomfort. "For me, that would be… A set of beautiful peepers."

His gaze burns a hole through hers. However, before she can begin to ask the question that jumps to the tip of her tongue, he's already answering it, like he can read her thoughts.

"I got a bad eye, you see," he explains, pointing toward his right eye- the one that felt so off to her before. Now it makes sense why it was giving her such an unnatural feeling. "Don't care for its color either. But, Rachel…"

His smile grows a little wider, and for just a moment, she feels that predatory instinct she had encountered when she ran into that crazed killer on B6 as he talks.

"...If I had peepers like _yours,_ that would be oh-so lovely."

 _Eyes… like mine?_

Ray has never felt her eyes were anything other than ordinary. She recalls her reflection in that mirror on the very first floor she'd been on, the way her blue eyes had stared back at her. They're a light cornflower blue, nothing especially remarkable. What would he want with eyes like hers?

It's not easy to understand his words, but she knows it makes her even more uncomfortable than before.

"Come now- clearly the key isn't here. Let's check the other room," Danny suggests, ignorant of her confusion.

The two trek out and around to the room beside it, entering a space lined with hospital beds along the walls in clean order. Dividers separate the beds a little unevenly, some pushed aside. The dark blue tile beneath their feet is worn, seemingly having seen quite a bit of use.

The room is empty, devoid of human life, but Ray feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up for some reason. Danny catches her uncertain look, and lightly pats her shoulder.

"This is a patients' room," he explains. "Don't be scared, Rachel. It's just a bunch of beds."

 _It might be just beds, but the air in here is stifling,_ she can't help thinking. _So musty and thick with the scent of antiseptic and chemicals…_

They start scouring the room, looking for the key once more. Ray wanders toward the far end where four windows peek outside. However, upon trying to see the outside world, she finds the windows are fake. The glass has nearly no depth, simply a fixture against the wall, like part of a dollhouse.

 _We're underground, so having windows in here doesn't make sense. These are so creepy._

One of the windows has long, jagged scratch marks embedded into the glass, like someone had dragged some kind of claw or their nails into it in desperation.

"Rachel," Danny comes near, inspecting the marks and glancing at her with a small smile. "Do you know what these markings are?"

Upon her silence, he continues. "Here's a hint- patients made these scratches. So… what is their significance?"

She doesn't know what he's trying to point out, so she answers truthfully. "...Beats me."

He stares at her a moment, then chuckles under his breath, gently patting her head. "That's okay. Markings made by patients are no consequence to you."

Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing, choosing not to question his growing oddness. The more Danny says to her, the less she understands of it all- and he seems to be enjoying how little she knows.

Starting to feel like they two of them will never find anything to help them, she moves toward one of the beds to check it for clues when she recognizes something written haphazardly onto the wall on its other side. However, she can hardly make out what it says; it's covered in dust, practically illegible.

 _If I can wipe away that dust, maybe I could read it?_

Ray reaches out to smear away the dirt, but Danny seizes her wrist before she can touch it, his grip suddenly iron-tight. It's almost painful how hard he grips her, keeping her from moving any further.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" he says, his voice lower. Meeting his eyes, she shrinks back a little from how intense he's become. "You'll get something in your eyes!"

Realizing he's moved and frightened her, he quickly releases her hand, allowing her to withdraw it and hold it against her chest. He replaces the intensity with a stiff smile, shaking his head.

"I'm sure it's just some patient's frivolous whimper," he tries to reason. "Just a regular Joe's psychological gripe, that's all."

If she didn't know better, it would seem that the doctor's trying to hide the message from her or something. Or maybe he really is just scared for her to hurt her eyes somehow. Either way, he had shocked her into a moment of silence.

"...Can you make it out?" she asks, not wanting to try to clean it off again for fear he'd stop her once more.

"Nah. I have a bad eye, remember? It wouldn't do much good to try and read it," he states.

"But the dust-" she mumbles, tentatively lifting a hand.

" _Stop right there._ You _don't_ want to get anything into your eyes." The ferocity is back again, and his stern expression easily crushes any thoughts she had of trying to read the message. Still, his own odd eyes soften a little at her disappointed look.

He reaches toward her, and his cold fingertips touch her cheek, grazing her skin like she's made of porcelain and gazing into her eyes. She can see into the dark depths of his eyes, his false orb glittering surreally in the lighting.

"...Take care of those beautiful peepers," he murmurs. "...Those beautiful, beautiful peepers of yours…"

Catching himself, he straightens up and lets his hand fall from her face. His touch left this stinging sensation across her skin, like an itch, and she barely keeps herself form vigorously rubbing the spot to remove it.

"...Oh yeah!" he says suddenly, his features lighting up. He fishes into his pocket, and to her disbelief, he withdraws a brand new key that she hasn't seen before.

"Come to think of it," he notes, "I had the key that leads to the back. Maybe we should head that direction? It really has been a pleasure being with you, though."

Ray can't help staring at him in confusion as he twirls the key in hand and wanders off already without her. _He- he had the key, but didn't use it? Wait, why… why did go looking for it then? I don't… I don't understand…_

Realizing she's being left behind, she grips her hand in a fist at her side, and runs after him to catch up.

 **.x.X.x.**

Once Danny had unlocked the gate, the two of them walked down the hall and entered the only room at the end. He hardly said much to her, but at this point, she wasn't ready to start up smalltalk either.

He swings open the door, and her immediate reaction is to lean away. The wafting scent of antiseptic is extremely strong, along with a mix of other chemicals. An operating table is in the center of the room, and cabinets and counters line the walls filled with varying medical equipment and medicines.

"...An operating room?" she observes.

"Yes, Rachel," Danny affirms, moving further into the room and turning toward her with a smile.

She swallows hard, not liking the look in his eyes. That predatory gaze again… it keeps coming back. "I'm… a little scared."

His smile melts away quickly. "Scared? Why?"

Before she can answer, he perks up with some new thought, reaching out to take her hands in his and giving them both a light squeeze. His dark eyes peer into hers, like they pry into her soul. "Hey, Rachel. Your peepers, can I… admire them forever?"

Her brows knit together at the odd request, that same terror beginning to send waves of icy chills through her bloodstream, but he's already let go and wandered away again, seeming upbeat and giddy, like a child given a new toy.

"Oh, Rachel," he says, facing her once more. His expression, at first excited but upon seeing her awkward and scared face, falls considerably. "Your peepers are so beautiful… but they're stricken with fear. Reduced to such dullness… it saddens me."

He smiles again, but it's more toothy this time, raising his arms on either side of him in a sweeping gesture.

"...Show me the true beauty of your eyes. If you awakened from this nightmare, would it restore the beautiful tranquility of that blue moon in your peepers?"

He leans closer to her. Her feet are rooted to the spot now, her confusion and mounting fear keeping her in place as he again strokes her cheek. Those odd, unnatural eyes gaze deeply into her own frightened blue through the thick lenses of his glasses.

"Rachel," he whispers, his touch loving against her warm skin, brushing his thumbs just underneath her eyes. She wants to cringe away from the coolness, her skin crawling with repulsion at this point, but she's helpless to do anything but stare at him unrelentingly.

 _What is wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? Why… why does he obsess over my eyes like this? And why am I… so scared of him now…?_

"I-I… I long to live beside those peepers," he murmurs, edging closer.

Finally, _finally,_ she regains some of her composure and will. She tugs her face out of his grasp and takes a step back, her hands knotting into tight fists at her sides.

"...Doctor?" she says in a slightly hoarse voice.

He's quiet for a moment, hands still extended as he gazes at her, but then he smiles to himself and tucks his hands away in his pockets for now. An unreadable expression lights over his features, and he turns away from her.

"Let's take a minute to look around here," he says, as if nothing happened out of the ordinary at all. "Maybe I'll find something. I left something very important around here- I've gotta find it."

His eyes glance at her from his peripheral and he chuckles low under his breath.

"...Maybe you'll find peace of mind, too, Rachel."

With that, he wanders over to a pair of cabinets to the left, brushing his fingers along the countertop and humming to himself. She's left to stand there, uncertainty filling her chest.

 _...I almost wish I could run away. But there's… nowhere else to go. The only path I could try would lead back to… to B6. Where that killer is. Aren't I supposed to be safer here, with Doctor Danny?_

"Now, where did I put it?" Danny mutters audibly, checking a drawer in search of something. "It was such a darn good piece of work, too."

She edges around the other side of the operating table slowly, peeking at him to see if he was noticing her movements. A doorway leading to another room in the back seems tempting for her to put a little distance between the two of them, but when she goes to walk through, he calls her name.

"...Are you going further?" he asks her, as if he'd been watching her every move even while seeming distracted. When she nods, he smirks. "...Be careful. It's dark in that hallway. If you find what I'm looking for, please bring it to me."

She tilts her head, apprehensive. Her fingers curl into the edges of her jacket. "...What are you looking for, doctor?"

He seems disappointed by her question, sighing. "Did you forget?"

He raises a hand and gestures to himself. "Look at me with those beautiful peepers, Rachel. I know you'll remember."

 _Remember? I can't think of anything that he might want._ His request does little to assuage her concerns, and she nibbles her bottom lip. What if she brings him the wrong thing and he gets upset…?

Seeing her troubled expression, he chuckles again.

"Here's a hint. 'My eye is alexandrite'," he comments in a sweet tone.

He offers nothing more. Left to ponder an even more confusing hint than the request itself, she heads into the room to locate it.

 _What is this place…?_ The first thought that enters her mind as soon as she's stepped foot inside.

The room is lined with a few hundred jars on shelves. A counter and cabinets are at the end of the room with a small closed chest sitting in front of it, and as she takes a few more steps inside, she can see a big cylindrical container of some kind of liquid, with something floating inside it. Some varying medical equipment that seems to be for eye surgery lays strewn over the countertop.

 _Is what you're looking for really around here, doctor…?_

She can see some labeling on the shelves nearby. An entire section dedicated to 'Blue', another dedicated to 'Green'... But for some reason, she shies away from actually examining the containers. Even from here, she can tell small, circular objects are packed into each container.

She inches closer to the counter, and notices a large filing cabinet nearby. Inspecting it, she pulls open a drawer and is greeted with many pairs of eyes staring back at her. She squeaks, taken off guard by the sight- but realizes quickly that they're all fake. She reaches in to touch one, a smooth blue orb, and it's cold as ice under her fingertips. She's surprised by how realistic and lifelike it seems, sitting in her palm.

' _My eye is alexandrite,' he said? What color is alexandrite? I can't remember. Maybe if I bring him some of these, he'll find which one he's looking for?_ In the back of her mind, she does remember something about 'alexandrite' and it feels like a foreign color to her. Named after some kind of gemstone, perhaps?

Taking three- one of each color in the locker, red, blue, and green- she starts to turn around. She can't help noticing the odd array of specimens in the green-filled liquid tank nearby.

 _All of those eyes in there, are they… real?_ Hurrying back out from the room, her thoughts are filled with concern.

 _That tank was… filled with blue eyes…_

Upon re-entering the room again, she finds him glancing over at her, pleased at her return.

"Do you remember what my face used to look like?" he inquires, touching a specimen bottle with deft fingers aimlessly.

She shake sher head, and he becomes a little more intense, admiring the bottle and then glancing at her. His fingertips stroke against the glassy surface.

"We used to have sessions outside your counseling," he says, and something about that feels wrong- like it threatens to return a memory she doesn't want to remember. "...Secret sessions."

She swallows. Those secret sessions… she doesn't recall them, and something in the back of her mind is telling her not to ask for more detail. "...I've no memory of seeing you anywhere outside the hospital, Doctor."

"Ahaha!" he grins and sets down the bottle more, seeing how despite her best efforts her expression twists into a grimace. "Don't look at me like that, Rachel."

Returning to the matter at hand, he glances down at what she holds in her hands. "Did you find it?"

"...Maybe." She moves a bit closer to him and offers him the green first. He raises a brow.

"Oh? This color… Did I slip into your subconscious?" he asks, smiling. "You're close, but that's not right."

 _Close, but not right? He didn't outright say no to the eye, so he must mean one of these. Why would he want one of them? Does he have a special eye he has as a keepsake of sorts…?_

"...is it this one?" she asks, holding up the red.

Danny admires the eye for a moment, but shakes his head. "Red… I do fancy this color. Still, not quite right."

The only one left is the blue, so she slowly extends the azure orb toward him, nibbling the inside of her lip.

Immediately his own eye brightens with amusement, and he laughs softly.

"Blue? You know I adore blue eyes. ...Much like yours," he adds gently. "But I don't need a blue one. Compared to yours, this one pales in comparison. For peepers of blue, all I need is you," he says, his voice lilting and nearly sing-song as he grins.

Another chill rolls down her spine, but now she's out of eyes to give him. How could those all be wrong?

"Oh! Rachel!" He suddenly exclaims, clapping his hands together. "I was so careless, and after you put in so much work to find it for me. I completely forgot that my eye is in a place that's locked away."

 _His… glass eye? But isn't he using the glass eye right now?_

"Annnnd…" he pats his breast pocket. "...I had the key with me all along! Here…!"

He withdraws the small key and drops it into her hands almost impatiently.

"Huh…?" she utters in disbelief.

He had the key in his grasp, pulling that same stunt a second time and playing her as a fool like this… What is he trying to do? Why is he acting like this?

 _I don't understand. Why have me go looking for something so valuable that you knew, all along, I couldn't locate? What are you thinking, doctor…?_

"If it's alright with you, Rachel," Danny says quietly, gently curling her fingers around the key and dropping his voice. "I would like you to find my eye. Won't you do that for me…?"

She has nothing to say, simply glancing away. If she looks at him, she might betray how much trouble he's causing in her thoughts.

"Please hurry and find my eye," he urges her.

"Doctor… why won't you look for it yourself?" she can't help saying, flashing her eyes back to his.

"Well…" He taps a finger against this chin, adjusting his glasses. "I'm curious to know if you remember what my eye looks like. No need to worry, though," he smiles. "I'm sure you'll find it in no time."

He ushers her into the other room without another word, watching her leave, and she walks back to where she had found the several glass eyes, trying not to feel uncomfortable. Replacing them back in the shelf she'd gotten them from, she ponders what 'locked' place he had put his eye, glancing back at the doorway like he's going to follow her.

 _There's quite a lot of eyes in this cabinet,_ she notes, scanning it. Just as she predicts, she sees that a drawer near the top has a small keyhole.

 _...Here._

Twisting the key into the lock, it pops open with a resounding click in the empty silence. She softly pulls open the drawer and stands on her tiptoes, retrieving the only thing hidden inside. Wrapping her small hand around it, she pulls it out- and nearly drops it in shock.

It's another glass eye, surely- but it's much less realistic and surreal as the last. No... it's completely unnatural, almost monstrous.

Inside the small orb, she can see two eyes crushed together within, tightly fit into the little space. One green eye, and one red, the two irises nearly pressed together. The pupils seem to stare directly at her, and she has to fight off the urge to just drop the eye and run away from it. It repulses her, and while it has no wetness, it's cold to the touch and makes slight sloshing noises when she moves it too much.

 _T-this— is this truly the eye he wanted…?_

"Rachel…"

She turns around to see the doctor himself walk into the room, gaze trained on her calmly. That same strange, fluid smile stays fixed upon his kindly features.

"Doctor…" she mumbles, meeting his gaze, her hand frozen around the eye. His own eyes slide down to her clasped grip around the object, and understanding lights over his face.

"Ohh," he says, walking over to her slowly. "You found it. That's what I was looking for."

She swallows. "Is this… is this glass eye yours…?"

Ray is almost too afraid to ask that question, not truly wanting the answer, but it slipped before she could stop herself. He simply nods.

"It sure is," he replies, gesturing with a hand. "Does it not make you _feel_ anything? Or… _remember_ anything?"

The question feels double-edged, cutting into some hidden away part of her memories, but even with his prying nothing surfaces. She shakes her head, and Danny's face falls. A sour expression settles over him, and he frowns deeply, disappointed.

"...You must be dreaming still," he remarks quietly.

He takes some steps over to her, and reaches out a hand, beckoning her.

"Do you mind if I borrow that?" he asks, lightly laughing under his breath. "I'm just… not _myself_ if it's not in. I must have it in for the both of us, you see."

There's something underlying in his tone, and she's hesitant to hand the object over to him even though it repulses her so.

"Rachel.." he presses her.

"...Yes," she relents. With reluctance she places the nightmare-fueling eye into his awaiting palm, and he's quick to hide it in his grasp. His smile returns, wider than before, like she's given him a great gift.

"Thank you… Rachel," he says softly. "I'm going to put this in now. Could you… go wait for me in the room outside for a bit?"

Ray quickly nods her head, not wanting to witness such a sight. However, as she's walking away, she hears him mutter something else, something that feels lowly threatening.

"You mustn't run, now."

Hastening her steps, she nearly jogs into the other room and comes to a stop beside the operating table. With a hand balancing herself against it, she bites her bottom lip anxiously.

 _That's funny. He's… really acting strangely._ Her thoughts race, and she can feel every muscle in her body tense up. _I'm… really scared. Is it safe for me to wait here for him?_

 _...No. No, it's not. I need to get out of here. I have to get away. He told me not to run, but I don't trust him. I need to escape_ _now._

With that alarming warning in her mind, and that _look_ in his eyes burned into her mental retina, she hurries over to the door. She gives the handle a jiggle, and then a push. It barely budges under her weight.

 _...It's locked! Doctor, did… did you do this-?_

He must've known she'd try something. Her worries now increasing, she looks around the room, trying to find anything to help her.

 _I've got to get away from him. Something is incredibly wrong. I need to find something to open the door._ She's painfully reminded that he most likely has the only key, leaving her simplest option crossed out.

Maybe she could smash the door lock? Or-

A fuzzy mental image appears in her mind. Earlier, when she'd been talking with the doctor by those sets of cabinets, hadn't there been something there she could use? What was it… a crowbar?

Rushing over to check, she finds the object nestled behind some of the medical apparatus, pulling it out. The metal is cool to the touch, but it's solid.

 _This ought to take care of that door,_ she musters her determination.

Bringing the crowbar up in front of her with both hands, she wedges the tool into the crevice between the doorjamb and the frame. Using every bit of her strength, she shoves it back, hearing the wood begin to splinter with her efforts.

 _It's rigid, but if I put just enough force into it-!_

The sounds of her prying apart the door fill the room. She's being louder than she intends, but her mind is focused on the task at hand. Her small arms burn with her strongest attempts, and her shoulders are clenched tight with exertion.

 _Just… a bit… more…!_

With a creaking groan, the door finally parts from the lock, cracking open and freeing her. She can't help the tiny smile of triumph on her face at her small victory.

"... _Rachel._ Where are you going…?"

The most intense sensation of goosebumps travels down her arms and raises the hairs on the back of her neck. Like prey trapped by her predator, she whips around and finds herself face-to-face with Danny. The sight of him causes her throat to close with fear, words unable to form past the sudden restriction.

 _His… His eye…_

That mutation-like glass eye has replaced the dull brown he had once before. The emerald and ruby irises stare at her, like monsters of their own, as he looms over her. Like this, he appears a madman- nothing akin to the doctor she thought she recognized.

This man… he is truly a psychopath.

"I-I… Umm…" Excuses try to fall from her lips, but they're hopeless in the face of such insanity.

He seems extremely disheartened by her, tsking under his breath.

"Didn't I tell you running was a bad idea?" he clicks his tongue at her, a twisted smile starting to appear over his thin lips.

"...This is my floor."

 _H-His floor… then that means… he must be one of them…!_

 _A… killer…_

"...Do-Doctor," she feebly murmurs, meek and frightened.

"If you run off to another floor, then I can't treat you?" he demands, his tone beginning to become angrier. "—Now _can I?!_ "

"No… no, Doctor-!" Ray tries to take a step back, but he reaches for her, gripping her wrists. She struggles, but his own grasp is vise-like around her small hands.

He stares down at her, his eyes clouding with something that seems all too familiar- that she had faced head-on on B6. Bloodthirst and madness, colliding.

"My wish was just to gaze into your living peepers…" he utters slowly, his fingers tightening even more and eliciting a small squeak of pain from her. "But _no…! This won't do!_ Your living peepers are exactly what the doctor ordered."

He leans in, closer to her, practically nose-to-nose. Her mouth feels like cotton, dry and thick.

"That's why… I've got to ask you, Rachel," Danny whispers. "Can I _have your peepers_?"

He yanks her forward, nearly pulling her right off her feet in his powerful movement, and she squeals. He's relentless as he forcefully drags her over to the operating table. She puts up a fight, wriggling as much as she can to try and free herself, but no avail. He's much bigger than she is, and easily overtakes her.

"No! Let go of me!" she cries out to deaf ears. He's completely intent on his task, pinning her to the operating table and securing her hands and feet with the thick, tightly holding metal clamps.

"No… never… never!" he maniacally laughs, closing the last binding over her waist and standing back to admire her sprawled over the table.

The surface is hard and cold underneath her, and she futilely tries to slip her hands out from the restraints. All she manages to do is chafe her wrists. The sense of hopelessness and fear that coalesces over her like a tidal wave, along with her weak, prone state in front of him like a specimen to be examined, drowns her in its intensity.

"Doctor!" she pleads, hoping to find some small speck of humanity within the crazed therapist. However, all she is rewarded with is his admiring smile. He leans over her, glancing along her tiny figure with prodding eyes.

"...Ohh, Rachel..." he coos, drawn again to her wide blue eyes. "...Your face…"

"Stop it! Let me go!" she shakes her head and yanks at the restraints again, facing away from him so she doesn't have to stare into that repulsing orb once more.

His cold hand takes hold of her face and forces her to look back at him despite her effort, and she finds that sickening sight too close to her.

"...The exuberance I once loved is no longer in your peepers… It saddens me so, Rachel," he frowns, thumbing along her chin gently.

"...Can't you remember? Why it is you're here? Why this is happening to you?"

She presses her lips into a thin line, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to jerk his hand off of her. He sighs, then mumbles low under his breath.

"If you could, you would redeem yourself."

 _...Redeem myself?_

 _He must be crazy. Why is he doing this? What does he mean? What does he_ _want_ _from me? I don't want this, I don't want to be part of this, please let me go-!_

"Let your peepers regain their luster, and come live with me, Rachel," Danny softly tells her.

 _Live with him? Never! I don't care what he wants, I just want to get out of here!_

Her answer is to continue struggling with her harsh restraints, and his once-friendly face contorts into a grimace.

"...No?" he says, upset. He tsks again, and wanders to the foot of the bed. Fearing what he might do, she forces herself to speak.

"Please, Doctor! Please, let me out of here!" Her voice breaks at the end, and his unhappy expression only deepens.

"Rachel. Still… your peepers are more breathaking than any other person's- by far," he remarks proudly. His complete disregard for her fear and pleading tips her over the brink of what composure she had.

She screams, desperate now in her frantic wish for escape. " _Let_ me _go!_ I want to see my mom and dad!"

Finally, her words create a response in him- but it's not what she hopes for. Instead of compassion or reason, she sees only an odd sense of amusement.

"There there," he reassures her, to her confusion. "You'll see your mom and dad in good time. They're waiting for you…"

A harsh laugh rips from his throat.

"...in _hell!_ "

 _In-_

 _In hell?_

 _What does that mean?_

 _No-_

Something chimes in the back of her mind, and his words release some kind of floodgate of locked memory. A harsh, red mist, and moonlight. A hollow moon that brought destruction.

Ray feels something in her mind splinter and break, and no longer does she feel fear.

"Okay, Rachel," Danny says, unknowing of the sudden change in his favorite child and toying with a nearby set of medical tools. "Give me your peepers..."

Her mind is buzzing, relentless with images and sensory reminders. The tangy scent of blood, the sight of red. The dripping sound of something liquid puddling onto wood.

A part of Ray seems to close off then, and she feels her struggles cease against her restraints. She lies limp against the table, her eyes downcast to the floor.

"...Rachel?" Now beginning to notice something is different, Danny drops his equipment and rounds to gaze at her.

 _I… understand now. I remember._

 _I…_

Taking a moment to stare at her, something akin to the dawn breaking over the doctor's face lights up his full expression. Giddy and full of glee, he touches her face, his smile brilliant and happy.

"Rachel!" he exclaims in wonder. "Oh my! Your peepers are so beautiful! It never ceases to amaze me!"

Backing away, he claps his hands together and reaches over to undo the restraints. "Here! I'll release you right now!"

Once her arms and legs are freed, she is allowed to move once more- but she doesn't try to run. She simply stays quiet while the doctor basks in his cheer.

"Alright! Let's go, Rachel!" he says, throwing out his hands. "Oh, I'm as happy as a lark!

 _...happy…?_

Before either one of them do anything more, a heavy thudding sound draws their attention. The door of the operating room flies open, kicked in by a familiar figure. She can partially see him over the doctor's shoulder, but that's all it takes to recognize the bloodstained hoodie and the gleam of the scythe.

"... _You_?!" Danny chokes in shock.

That crazed, overly excited laugh fills the room, and the therapist has no room to move or run before the killer from B6 jumps forward and slashes him with inhuman speed. The sharp scythe cuts down and rips into the doctor, blood spewing forth from the open cut and dripping onto the floor. With a squeaky groan of pain, the doctor collapses, the crimson liquid puddling underneath him.

She doesn't know what to say or do, but somehow, the sight doesn't faze her at all. Ray gazes at his lifeless body and the strange way the blood seeps into the cracks in the tile, while the murderer giggles with pleasure.

"Hey, Danny," the hooded figure pokes Danny's motionless head with the point of his weapon, grinning ear to ear. "What're you so happy about? I couldn't take that anymore, so I slashed you!"

He then turns to her, and she meets his gaze. From this close, she can see straight into his bi-colored eyes.

 _Brown, and gold… how strange._

"Hey, little missy!" he says in greeting, beginning to move over to her. His scythe is perched against his shoulder, and his mouth quirks into a cocky smirk.

"Goin' after you got me in a hell of a mess," he comments, tilting his head. He fills his next words with his bloodlust, gripping his scythe handle tightly in both hands. "Do you wanna live? Then _run!_ Run and _squirm!_ Cling to your hope!"

He raises the weapon and touches the cold edge of the blade against her neck, taunting her. "Time to get slashed!"

Ray does nothing. She simply closes her eyes, stays completely still so he won't miss, and waits for the cutting blow.

 _I wonder if dying would hurt much._

The hooded murderer stays in place for a moment. As time ticks by with no signs of a response from the girl, his amusement fades quickly.

"...? Shit," he says, a low growl rumbling in his chest with outrage. He lowers the weapon, now frowning openly at her. "Yawn- what a dull reaction."

Ray's gaze flickers to him once more. He takes a step back and stuffs a hand in his pocket.

"Even with my blade pressed against your neck, don't you have the will to live?"

 _The will to live, he says?_

Of all the things she thought he might say, that wasn't on the list. If she was anyone else, she might've laughed, but…

...Supposedly, he's not wrong. If she had the will to live, she would've tried to run away.

Her quietness and lack of any kind of facial reaction seems to only perturb him further, and he runs a hand through the messy black lcoks peeking out from under his hood.

"...I'm a respectable male adult, so I'm not into shredding emotionless dolls," he grimaces.

A sudden bell chiming overhead makes both of them look up to the ceiling. Static and feedback run through the intercom system, before words spout forth.

" _Betrayer Alert! The 6th floor's master has betrayed the 5th floor's master. This is a violation of the rules._ "

The mechanical words are interlaced with the feedback, creating a rather painful rasping on her ears, but the next sentence does surprise her a bit.

" _Along with Rachel, the betrayer also is now hereby a sacrifice._ "

The bells chime again, signalling the end of the message, and after a few beeps, silence once again fills the room. It's quickly ruptured again by the killer's angry yell.

"No _fuckin'_ way!" he curses loudly, swiping some of the tools off the counter in his disgust. "Shit- I better run for it."

Without giving her a second glance, he hops over Danny's body and rushes out the door, leaving her behind. Ray picks herself off the table and brushes off her jacket.

 _...Oh yeah,_ she remembers, the realization dawning on her almost like a gentle reminder.

 _I'm… not meant to live._

 _I'm supposed to be killed by these people, isn't that right?_

 _...I wonder._

Ray sidesteps past Danny, giving him a small look but quickly waving off any notion of checking to see if he's alive. After that fatal cut, she doubts he could survive it.

 _But… I should check to see if he has any keys on him._ Leaning down, she rifles through his pockets fairly quickly, and finds several keys. Only one is one she doesn't recognize, so she takes it and places it in her purse.

Following the hooded man's footsteps, she leaves the room. Seconds after entering the hallway, she hears the sounds of glass shattering into many pieces from below.

 _Is that from that person? Did he break the glass wall?_

She picks up her pace and finds her assumption to be correct. The thick glass pane that had separated her from the other elevator has been ripped through, a gaping jagged hole in the center. Thousands of small glass shards litter the floor beneath her.

 _This had to be his doing._ She follows the trail of glass and then the muffled noises of swears being thrown around to find the man pacing back and forth in front of the elevator.

"Shit! It won't budge!" He slams a fist into the solid steel. "Not even if I beat on it! What the hell am I gonna do…?"

He presses the button a bunch more times, and she refrains from saying that he'll most likely break it with that kind of assault. Instead, she approaches him slowly, and he takes notice of her presence. Turning around to face her, he sneers, pointing his scythe at her.

"...Who the hell are you?" he demands, walking up to her. She can tell that his frustration toward the immobile elevator is being directed at her. "What're you doin', showin' up here like you own the damn place?! _Huh_?!"

He starts to raise his weapon menacingly toward her, but she just looks at him without flinching.

"...Umm," Ray begins, quiet. At his bewildered eyebrow raise, she continues. "...I've got a favor to ask."

She's fairly sure that she's never seen someone look so entirely confused before. The man seems to nearly drop his weapon in surprise.

"... _Huh_?" he says, for a moment taken completely off guard.

She raises her hands in front of her gently and clasps them at her chest. She meets his multi-colored eyes.

"...Please," she speaks calmly.

"...Kill me."

He takes a second to register what she said, by how determined and completely serious her eyes are. Then-

"Oh god- _ughf-_ "

He turns away and stumbles over to the corner, where he proceeds to empty his stomach of whatever he'd eaten today. After he's finished vomiting in disgust, he looks back at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't- Don't ask me to do creepy shit like that," he commands her, repulsed. "I got no time for crazy bitches like you! If you're just gonna spew out creepy shit like that, how about gettin' this door open?"

Ray ponders a moment, then shrugs her shoulders.

"You got it," she says, turning from him and already heading off on her mission. Behind her the man stares holes into her back, the most puzzled look on his face he might've ever worn.

" _..._ What the hell was _that_ about?"

 **.x.X.x.**

"I think it was… here."

Ray places the key she'd found on the doctor's body into the door she'd found near the first elevator. She remembered seeing it while walking with him earlier, but hadn't given it much mind. Now, however, after a bit of searching, she's fairly sure this is the room with the elevator control in it.

It fits perfectly, and she's able to enter. It's an unremarkable room akin to the one she'd found on B6, with two cameras in the corners. She approaches the lone switch standing out against the pale wall, and presses it.

It's not as loud as the last one, a simply thunk and then silence.

 _I think that did it,_ she nods to herself. _I'll go check back and see._

She heads back to where the hooded figure was. Ray can already tell that it worked because she can hear his noises of victory from down the hall.

When she turns the corner and he spots her, he moves over to her, pointing his index finger toward the elevator.

"Hey, are you the one who opened this elevator?" he asks.

She nods. "...Yep, that's right."

He gazes at her for a moment, then busts out in laughter for a few seconds. She fails to see what he finds so funny about it, but watches him until he's finished.

"So it was you, huh?" he says in disbelief, draping his scythe across his shoulder again. He turns away, seeming fairly amused. After another moment, though, and he asks another question.

"Hey. Didn't you say earlier you wanted me to kill you?"

"Sure did," she says without hesitation.

He chuckles under his breath, then faces her again, casual now.

"I'm such an idiot. So yeah… let's work together to get the hell out of this place," he tells her, an expression over his face she's not sure she can identify. "Then, when you're frollicking outside with a goddamned stupid grin... "

He grips his scythe tighter and grins wide.

"... I'll kill you."

It takes her a second to realize what he said. Her eyes widen.

"...Really?" she says, unsure.

" _Well,_ that is, if you behave," he jibes, shrugging his shoulders.

 _So, if I help him escape from here, he'll kill me?_

Considering every option… it's the best she has. Her wish will be granted after all.

 _I suppose it can't be helped. I think this will work fine, actually. Once he's free, I… will be killed, like I'm meant to be._

 _Killed by this person…_

"Alright," he says, smacking his hands together and rolling his shoulders to loosen himself up. "Now let's get the hell out of this place."

He starts to stroll onto the elevator, but stops and glances at her.

"Hey," he starts, raising a hand and sticking two digits into the air meaningfully. "I got _two_ rules. _No_ fuckin' around, and _no_ prancin' around all merry-like. I got a _big_ problem with fuckers who look so happy. Whenever I see 'em… I can't help but kill 'em."

She blinks, but shrugs.

"...Whatever you say," she agrees.

He meets her eyes and then rolls his own, flicking his black bangs out of his face.

"Well, with that dead look in your eyes, I probably ain't gotta worry."

He moves onto the elevator, and ushers her in too. She glances back into Danny's floor for a brief moment.

Then the doors close on them both—

Ray, and this new unexpected ally she's forced to make.

* * *

 **A/N: Unbeta'd.**

Hello friends. First off- sorry it's sooooo long. This was completely unintentional. I really did not think it would become this monster chapter buttttttt it did. So here you go my dudes. I hope you like it and I hope it was okay.

So here we are with chapter 4! Now Zack and Ray have officially teamed up! :3 It only gets bumpier from here. (I also made Danny a bit more pedo because he felt _really_ pedo in the game.) be prepared for more of that kind of thing in the future!

Next up- tackling B4, hohoh. Hopefully with a shorter chapter omg. They're not all going to be this long. And I'm kinda surprised I'm keeping a kinda normal update schedule for this. It's pleasing, actually.

Alright, anyways- I'm gonna let you do you. Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you like or dislike or just wanna talk about it. I appreciate it immensely!

Read on~!

~disclaimer~ I don't own Danny, nor his pedoness. I just like writing AOD.


	5. Paying a Visit To The Dead

_This isn't really what I expected,_ Ray can't help thinking. _But I suppose that's alright._

On the elevator ride up, she found herself studying her new companion. At first glance, he looks like a blood-spattered maniac. Yet, now that he's not trying to kill her, and this elevator makes them stand a bit close together, she can discern more features about him.

He's tall and a bit gangly, possibly a teenager or maybe twenty-ish. He has short black hair that likes to poke out from the cover of his gray hood. The hoodie itself is spattered in bloodstains and has an arrow design leading up the front, along with a few black dashes on the chest and a set of small arrows on the hood. She's still a little fascinated by how his eyes are two vastly different colors- one a dark brown, and the other a brilliant gold.

But, the one thing that stands out most against his person is the fact that he's wrapped head to toe in gauze. Every inch of his skin is covered in bandage, the wrapping soiled in places. The only parts of his skin she can actually see is around his mouth, eyes, and nose, and what she does see she can tell is quite a bit darker than her own.

 _I wonder why he's completely wrapped in so much gauze?_

 _Funny… I don't even know his name, either._

The boy catches the way she's eying him, and immediately bristles.

"What the hell are you lookin' at?" he demands coarsely. He adjusts his scythe over his shoulder warningly.

"...Nothing," she says, and he makes a noise under his breath.

"S'what I thought."

Thankfully, before he could become more agitated, the elevator doors slide open. Ray hadn't even realized that it stopped.

The two step out onto the floor. Cobblestone lines this floor, laced in loose dirt. The path in front of them is narrow, surrounded by water on both sides.

"...It's chilly here," she says, rubbing her shoulders reflexively. The temperature drop from the last floor to here really is noticeable- like they both walked into a lukewarm freezer.

Her companion moves over to glance at the floor sign, and growls. "Shit, we're still only on B4?! Let's get out of here already- move it!"

He walks past her hurriedly, already moving on, and she jogs to keep up with his steps. She's unused to traveling with company like this since her previous exploration attempts ended up with her nearly being murdered twice before. Yet, something about him is refreshing somehow; perhaps it's the fact that his intentions have been clear from the very beginning. This boy hasn't said a single thing to her that he either hasn't followed through with or meant completely.

 _Wouldn't most murderers lie or cheat their way to what they want? 'The end justifies the means', right?_

It might be too early to tell, but she'll ride it out for now and see what happens. After all, no matter what the outcome, he said he would kill her. That's what's important in the end.

Trailing behind him, she flickers her blue-eyed gaze across the water around them, alf expecting something nightmarish to peek out from the shallow depths. Surprisingly, the water seems fairly clear, and just underneath the surface to her left she can make out some kind of odd shape. From this distance, it's impossible to make out any details about it.

"...Something's in the water," she points out to her companion, and he pauses to wheel around, following her glance.

"What is it?" He edges closer, trying to catch a better look at it. "What the hell is that thing?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "No clue," Ray admits, and a disgruntled noise escapes his lips. He tosses a hand into the air and turns his back on it.

" _You_ don't know? Then how the hell am _I_ supposed to know?" he grumbles.

Ray blinks. He has a point, honestly. "...I see."

Adjusting his scythe across his shoulder, he flips a hand forward impatiently, ushering her forward. "Starin' at somethin' all day isn't gonna make you understand it better. Now _move_ it!"

He again starts moving without her, and she risks a final look at the indistinguishable object before dismissing it entirely and following him like a pet, shadowing his footsteps as he moves with purpose onto the next room.

Entering a wide, well-lit area, Ray and her partner take a few steps inside before she registers what she sees in front of her. When she does, she takes a moment to examine it all carefully.

Two rows of pale white stones lie in front of them, perfectly neat in order and with varying names written upon them. One is larger than the rest and not part of the assortment. Directly before them is a freshly dug hole in the ground, with a mound of moist soil still sitting beside it waiting to be filled in, and a pickaxe stuck in the ground, abandoned. The room itself is permeated with the scent of dirt, decay, and something metallic that screams familiar at her.

"It's… a graveyard," she says with a bit of curiosity.

"Ohhh," he says, taking a couple steps forward and peering into the gaping hole. "No wonder it smells like blood in here."

 _Blood? Oh… so that's what that smell is,_ she notes.

"Wanna try digging it up?" he grins, and she just rolls her shoulders indifferently.

"Whatever."

His gleeful expression falls a little, and he tsks under his breath. "...You're no fun."

 _I'm no fun, huh…?_

His words hardly bother her, but it does tick away at something deep in her mind. She pushes it away from her thoughts and wanders closer to him, peeking into the hole also- and reels a little.

A crumpled body lies nestled in the dirt-lined space. It looks like it was once a young man, but he's also clearly been dead for a few days. Loose and torn clothes accentuate his pallor, and flies buzz around the deceased stranger. His garments are spattered with blood from varying kinds of wounds- some looking nearly like gunshot wounds- but what's most strange about him is the fact that the corpse is staring back at her. His eyes, once possibly blue but now gray and milky white, are unblinkingly peering into hers.

The boy beside her leans down a bit to stare at her face, noticing how intensely she's staring at the opening.

"What? It's just a grave," he says flippantly. "Do you want to get in it that bad?"

Her silence answers for her, but then she sighs.

"...But this one won't do," she admits. "It's already occupied."

He's quiet, eying her unreadably for a moment, and it tickles at her conscience.

 _Did I say something he found weird?_

A faint glinting from below draws her attention back to the corpse. Nestled in the deceased's hands… a key?

She's already leaning down, kneeling at the edge of the grave and stretching her hand to reach it, and her companion startles with surprise.

"Huh? What the heck are you doin'? What're you fumblin' around in there for? Is somethin' down there?"

Ray ignores his questions, and keeps trying to reach the object, but without luck. Her fingers are a few inches too far from her intended target, and she doesn't want to fall in.

"...I can't reach it," she frowns.

"Huh? Just do this."

Without warning, he slips down into the grave past her, not seeming to care about the privacy of the dead.

"But the body…" She starts to protest, but it's too late. He's already on a mission, and he steps on the corpse, grabbing at the shining key. He tugs at the key without mercy, fearlessly cracking apart the man's fingers to get it. A strangely liquid sound of the skin, and the crack of bone resound, and he pulls the key free from the dead man's clutches. At the same time, a larger crushing sound echoes out from under his feet, and the boy climbs back out with his trophy.

"Its leg fell off," she says a bit disapprovingly, glancing at the now severed limb. He only snorts and tosses the key at her, and she hastily grabs it from the air, placing it in her purse.

 _Not the most respectful way to take it, but since he's used to dead people, he must always be like this._

Ray tiptoes her way around the graves, while Zack stands nearby and admires the pickaxe sticking out of the ground, seeming tempted to take it but thinking better of it, patting his scythe.

Giving the room a good once-over, she notices that from the front of the graveyard, she can better see around. A sign near the ceiling says: "Graveyard 1,' and there's two branching halls off to her left and right with doors on either end. Lying before the white monolith is another door— though when she tries it, she finds it locked. Unfortunately, though she fumbles with the corpse's key, it's not compatible.

She returns to the monolith and finds that words are carefully, painstakingly engraved onto the surface she hadn't yet seen. She brushes her fingers over the finely chiseled words.

' _Graves of the impure. The pitiable unwanted by the master and his angels. Await to be purified- plummeting to the depths and be buried in the ground.'_

 _The impure?_ She ponders its meaning for a moment, raking her gaze down over the pale stones near her feet. Names carved into the rocks barely stand out in the light- Mary, Aya, Hiroshi, David- but thankfully none of them are ones she recognizes.

 _What made these people impure? Why were they buried here, and why were they 'unwanted'? Were they really so impure that they had to be killed?_

Ray slowly makes her way off to her right, whereas her companion goes off toward the left, peeking around. His covered hand reaches out to jiggle the knob of the door, and when it resists him, he kicks it with anger.

"Fuckin' door- I'll just cut it open," he grumbles, beginning to raise his scythe.

"Hold on," she calls out, stopping him seconds from his assault on the door. While he'd been messing around, she's taken her key and tried the other door, and it had fit perfectly. She glances at the sign above her head labeling the room ahead.

 _The morgue, hm?_

"What're you waitin' for? Open it already," he demands, coming over and wrenching the door handle. Despite his brusque manner, she trails after him as they enter, deciding it isn't worth thinking too much about.

The room is absolutely freezing. The moment she's encased in the lowered temperature, her breath starts coming out in foggy mist. It's even colder in this room than the rest of the area, but after looking around a moment, she understands why.

Big, steel cabinets lie in rows in the room. They're long and almost all of them are shut tightly save for one just in the corner of her peripheral view that's been left wide open. A couple of open coffins sit untouched nearby, as if awaiting their resident with open arms. The air is thick and moist, and somewhat piercing when she inhales, and the scent of death and strong chemicals lingers in the air.

 _Inside those cases… there are bodies._

"Man, it's freezing in here," the hooded man complains, rubbing over his arms through his baggy sleeves with irritation. "I don't wanna stick around here for long. Gotta find a way out of here, and fast!"

Ray peers over toward a small stone sign while he walks away from her, heading for the back of the room.

"' _Cleanse thyself_ '," she reads aloud. "' _The master expects a pure soul and body_.'"

"Like I fuckin' care," the male snorts from nearby.

Ray picks up her pace to catch up to him, and finds him standing at the very edge of the room. Past the big freezers is a small area filled with water coming in from a hole in the farthest wall, with a single narrow wooden bridge leading to it and what appears to be a big hole.

"The wall is crumbling," she notes, crossing the bridge and kneeling down before the hole.

"This place is turnin' to shambles," he scoffs, glancing over her shoulder. "What a dump."

There's something underlyingly bitter about his words, like he's been here before and dislikes it. She mulls over it internally.

 _Has he been on this floor once before? Or maybe it was just another snide comment of his…_

 _...I really should ask his name, shouldn't I?_

However, he's already heading back before she can muster a word. _Oh, well,_ she pushes off the thought for now and moves after him.

"Damn," he curses belligerently. "Nothin' useful in this room. Guess I get to tear down that other door after all."

As he stalks toward the door, Ray glances back toward the freezers and stops. Instead, her feet move of their own accord toward the open one, and she finds herself reaching into it. A little piece of scrap paper comes into the light, and she tugs it out to read it. Her companion, noting her disappearance, heads back to her side with a raised brow as she reads the note aloud.

"' _Watkin Beckett, 36. Place of death: B3. Cause of death: blood loss from bullet wounds. Mr Beckett had the B4 key on his person, but it has yet to be found. It appears he lost it._ " Ray recites the note word for word easily, then pauses. "...This guy died?"

He peers over her for a moment, then shrugs his shoulders. "Yep. It says 'B3', so it's safe to assume he died there."

Her brains whirs with thought. "We're on B4, which means there are still more floors above. Are you…"

She risks a look at the somewhat unreadable expression on his face.

"Are you… familiar with this place?"

He seems unfazed by the question, slinging his scythe onto his shoulder once more and giving her a sideways glance.

"Well, I guess you could say that," he tells her. "I'm just here cause someone told me I could kill whoever I want."

His brows knit together as he thinks for a second.

"The same goes for the guys on the other floors too, huh? Even I'm not up on the details," he admits to her.

Ray's a little surprised by how informative he is, (or at least is trying to be), and she nods. "...I see."

"Oh man," he complains suddenly, and she blinks. He raises his hands up and looks between his palms and the handle of his scythe, grimacing. "Messing with those graves earlier made my hands reek, and all gunky."

 _Is he… really complaining about being dirty?_ She really didn't expect him to be even a little bothered by something so trivial, being a person who deals with such nasty and gruesome things often, but she's proven wrong about him once more.

 _What a strange person._

"...The falling water over there," she tells him, pointing a finger toward the back of the room. "You could rinse your hands there."

He takes a moment to register, but then nods. "Oooh."

He hurries over there with her close behind and wedges the handle of his scythe between his arm and collar for a moment, dipping his bandaged hands into the water without hesitance. He rubs off the black stains on his gauze, and she can see as the water rinses it away that the skin is peeking through the cracks between strips, showing a deep brown color.

"A'ight, that's a tad better," he says, waving his hands toward her as if showing off and then rubbing them off on his soiled hoodie.

She glances down into the somewhat less-clean-looking liquid below them and notices that underneath the rushing, flowing water is what looks like the dark outlines of… a body. Hidden just underneath the surface far enough not to be able to tell features. And alongside it, something else...

"There's a key," she remarks, and her companion perks up at the sound.

"Yeah? Where?"

Ray directs his eyes toward the shining object, and he wastes no time in dipping down into the water to retrieve it. Yanking it out and splashing the water every which way, he grins and raises it with triumph.

"Got it. Here."

He hands it to her and she again places it into her purse.

"Now let's get the hell out of here," he urges. "That key probably works on that other door."

The two of them cross over from the room to the door that they had originally planned to knock down. Using the key, she finds it opens easily, and she and the boy beside her slip inside without incident.

They're faced with another graveyard similar to the one they'd been met with in the main room; however, this one is much larger and lined with a decorative metal fence. There's twice as many tombstones off to either side, all fairly well-made. This graveyard is also fairly neater and prettier, as if it's been given greater care. The floor is made of neat stone, and the graves are on dedicated stone platforms and decorated with deep blue flowers. Another thick monolith stands near the entrance, embossed with more words that seem more carefully printed into the rock.

Straight ahead, two more graves are prominent, much larger than the rest. The one up front is a jagged, uncut rock embedded in a cleared dirt spot with a messy hole beginning to be dug into it, whereas the one behind it is a majestic, perfectly refined gravestone on its own platform, polished to perfection and glittering in the light.

"...It's another graveyard," Ray says.

Her companion scoffs, casting a disdainful glare around the place.

"One after another… why the hell would you need this many graves in a place like this?!" he grumbles, toying with his scythe irritably.

She takes a couple steps to peer at the monolith, tilting her head.

"' _The holy land of the coveted! Those the master coveted, those pure, angelic adorers, and those exceptional… shall lay thyself to rest for this magnificent privilege. But heed my words; wicked souls that betray the master shall be damned here in eternal hell.'_ " She recites, and glances at her hooded partner.

He just shrugs his shoulders and brushes it off. Meanwhile, she frowns. _The longer we're in this graveyard, the less friendly it seems. It seems like this graveyard must be for people that are considered 'pure' or 'innocent', right? Or maybe I have it wrong? I guess it doesn't really matter, but…_

Ray catches up to her companion, who's already moving on ahead without her again, and comes to stand before the two much more obvious, bigger gravestones. They circle around the one being worked upon, coming up near the other stone. The minute she can catch the writing written on the grand stone, she pauses, having to reread the name a few times to actually realize what it says.

 _This massive gravestone… It's…_

"...Huh? What's wrong?" Noticing how her face had changed to one of slight surprise, her ally wanders closer, peering at the rock to find what had caused the reaction. "Something's written on it, right?"

"A name's written on it," she says slowly. Her fingers reach out of their own accord to touch the letters carefully.

His eyes narrow and he frowns at her, clearly not understanding. "Well _duh._ All gravestones have names on 'em. What're you freakin' out over?"

Her voice drops, and she gazes at it with fascination, taking a moment to look back at his confused expression.

"...That's… my name," she tells him. "My name's written on it."

The boy's taken aback, reeling. "...No way?!"

He turns and moves toward the other rugged grave, examining it particularly. His face sours more, and he kicks it, instantly regretting the action and hopping back. "So mine's written on this one? ... _Shit._ What is it with this fucked up, horrible place?"

Ray's hardly paying attention to his antics, still enamored with her grave. Still, she hears him mumbling to himself, and then he addresses her.

"...Hey," he says. When she's still quiet, he grabs her shoulder, forcing her to look his way. "Hey! Don't stare at the gravestone!"

He raises his scythe, gripping it tight in his bandaged hand and releasing her. While still mildly disgusted, his face is somewhat determined, unrelenting.

"No offense, but I have no intention of dying with you." Placing his weapon against his shoulder for a moment, he rubs his hands together. "We're getting the hell outta this place- one way or another!"

She's unsure how to take his confidence, but she decides he's right. Staring endlessly, with longing, at her grave isn't right. At least not yet; not until she can die and be put into it, right? And before that, she has to help him escape from this place. That was the promise she made, so she has to fulfill her end first. Only then can she finally be allowed to die.

"Hey," he says, perking up and pointing over her shoulder. "There's a weird hole in that wall over there."

She notices a giant crack half-hidden behind her gravestone, clearly far too big to be safe but still too small for a normal sized person to fit through. The two go to look it over, and he grumbles more, unhappy with what he finds.

" _I'm_ not going to fit in there," he frowns. He glances away, rubbing the back of his head. "Guess we're out of options…"

She gazes at his disappointed face for a few minutes, before shaking her head. Ray doesn't even have to think long before piping up.

"...How about I go?"

He turns his head, meeting her gaze with suspicion. "Huh? You're just saying that so you can bolt," he accuses, beginning to grip his scythe threateningly.

She steps forward, taking him off guard with her sudden intensity. She doesn't flinch into his bi-colored stare.

"I won't run," she states firmly. "Not until I'm killed by you."

The hooded killer makes a face at her, coughing slightly and clearing his throat. Something about how she said it seems to have rubbed him oddly.

"Damn, you've been givin' me the creeps for awhile," he says, a little repulsed. Clearing his throat again noisily, he straightens up and point sat the hole with his scythe. With a dismissive wave, he continues. "But… enough about that. At any rate, we can't just sit here and do nothing. Go and take care of it, then."

He pauses, thinking, then adds on. "Oh, and if you die, then gimme an 'I'm dead' to let me know."

The absurdity of his request makes her blink a few times before answering calmly: "...I can't if I'm dead."

Realizing he said something stupid, his face scrunches up with embarrassment. "...Shut up! In that case, at least be useful before you die!"

He reaches out and shoves her toward the hole, and after stumbling a bit and regaining her footing, Ray straightens up, glances back at him, then faces the hole head on. A cool chill emanates from within, and there's light on the other side she can see. There's definitely something for her to find on the other side.

 _...Here goes nothing, I suppose._

Bracing herself, the young girl leans down, squeezes herself inside, and disappears into the opening.

* * *

 **A/n: Unbeta'd.  
**

Heya guys. Here's chapter 5! I hope I'm doing the game justice, haha. I'm trying to include everything I can. Also, note that I'm following the game in Ray's perspective right now, so she has no idea about Zack's name or anything yet, so I'm trying to avoid using it. There's some dialogue you can get with Zack if you talk to him before entering the crack, but not sure if I'll include or incorporate it somehow. (It's not important but I mean... extra dialogue *shrug*)

Anyways! Thanks for reading, leave a review, let me know if you're hype for the next chapter!

~disclaimer~ I own an interest in graveyards and spooky places, but not AOD. :3


	6. His Identity

Ray shivers immediately upon entering the dim mystery room, finding herself in a short hall that curves off to the right. It seems somehow colder in here than even the cemeteries, and she rubs her hands along her sleeved arms to generate some warmth.

For some reason, the moment she steps inside, the hairs on the back of her neck start to prickle, but she sees no reason for alarm. Choosing to ignore it, she takes cautious steps and turns the corner, coming into the full room.

It's a mess, no doubt about it. Papers are strewn across the floor haphazardly, like a tornado had blown through at one point and scattered them every which way. The rough brick walls are cracked and filled with holes in random places, and the room smells strongly of dirt. Finished, brand new gravestones along with untouched large rocks sit along the wall, and a cabinet full of soiled gloves, tools and specifically shovels gleans nothing but to cause her to sneeze upon inspection. Trying not to step on any of the paper, she glances over them as she explore the room quietly, studying her surroundings.

 _Those papers are an inventory for gravestones, and those are designs for them. This room… perhaps it's like a workshop of sorts?_

A large metal desk sits in the center of the room, and she trails her way to it. The surface is littered with more paper, measuring tools, and writing utensils. Peering over the paper on top of the pile, she sees it's more blueprints and designs for graves, and schematics for a few other things that seem quite unimportant.

 _This isn't really helpful at all, is it?_ She exhales softly. _But the handwriting over these pages seems almost child-like. Could a kid really write things like this?_

Lightly dragging her fingertips over the papers, she pauses over what looks like a diary entry. Her curiosity makes her leans closer to read the somewhat scribbly handwriting.

' _I first learned of that kid awhile ago. I've always been curious about her, but I didn't get to know her for the longest time! I long to see her, but that bastard's always in the way. She has such a beautiful voice. She must be so, so lovely. She_ _must be_ _! I mean, that's why I fell for her overnight! Oh dear, I gotta make something special for her. Gotta think of something special, only for her…_

' _...A place of eternal rest.'_

The writing trails off there, and Ray gazes upon the ink-blotted paper for a moment, silent.

 _This note seems nearly… obsessive. I wonder if the person who wrote this is actually in love? It doesn't really sound like it at all. Is this person the same as the one who's made these graves and tombstones, and their designs? The handwriting is the same, too._

Ray replaces the entry the way she'd found it, deciding that it's best to pretend she hasn't seen it. It was a bit of an invasion of privacy, after all.

A door off to her right, where she had been waiting to look until she'd thoroughly explored the room around her, once more catches her eye. She circles the desk, again evading the various things along the stone floor, and tries the knob.

 _Locked. But… there's no keyhole._

Not again. She's starting to wonder why the popularity of doors without keyholes in this building is so high, but she brushes aside her qualms and turns around.

 _Maybe there's something of value in the papers somewhere? But I checked them all, and nothing seemed to pop out at me._

She checks over the cabinets, and in a box nearby for something useful, and she stumbles upon a flashlight. She toys with the button, and the end flashes with brightness, illuminating the room brightly.

 _This could be helpful somewhere,_ she says, placing the flashlight into her purse and zipping it closed. _I'll hang onto it._

Her blue eyes scan the room, and she nibbles the inside of her cheek in thought.

 _There's a lot of papers and notes jumbled together, but none of them really look like a clue… This place seems to be a dead end too. What to do now…?_

Another moment of thorough thinking, and she shakes her head. All she's coming up with are blanks.

 _...Guess I'll head back for now._

When Ray's about the cross the threshold of the opening in the wall again, she's greeted by the sounds of something thudding against a hard object repeatedly. Uncertain, she peeks her head out and looks around for signs of her waiting companion. She can't see him, but the noisy thumping sounds are much louder than before. She can hear his exerted breathes, and begins to piece to and two together.

The boy is smacking his 'gravestone' violently with his scythe handle, his chest heaving with the effort but clearly getting nowhere. The scythe is obviously not meant for such things, which explains his odd use of it. He's preparing to use the bladed end with frustration when he catches sight of her.

"...What's up?" she asks, pointedly glancing at the stone and back at him.

He grumbles under his breath, his weapon gripped tightly in both hands as he glares at it. "This gravestone gets on my nerves. I wanna smash it to bits."

"Your weapon would probably give way first," she observes, serving only to tick him off further. He whips around on her, irritated.

"Shut _up._ Don't you think I _know_ that?!" His uncontrolled outburst fills the room, his multicolored eyes trained on her. He barely takes a breath before questioning her further. "Never mind that- did you find anything on the other side?"

 _He must really be on edge down here,_ she notes. _I can tell, in his voice… it's a little strained._

Ray explains the room she found and the locked door to him quickly, hoping her venture will give him something else to think about.

"There has to be some kind of mechanism to open that door," she says firmly, and he rolls his eyes.

"You don't say. Well, keep lookin'," he commands her flippantly. She frowns a bit.

"Okay. But… could you look here, too?" she asks him. His eyes widen at her request.

"Wha-?" The boy can't wipe away his dumbfounded expression. "Door mechanisms and I don't get along."

"...Yeah," Ray admits, a little disappointed by his lackluster answer. _I guess he's not going to help after all._

He stares at her for a minute in silence, his features twisting strangely, before he suddenly shoves her backward, nearly making her stumble again. The violent action surprises her, but she's quick to catch herself as he speaks.

" _Fine_ ," he says with annoyance. "Now _go_!"

 _He's… actually going to look?_ She can't say she's not surprised. He seemed very reluctant to do anything of the sort, but he changed his mind despite acting so irritated.

"...Okay," she agrees. However, before she turns to go, something else crosses her mind. "...Umm…"

His face sours further. "Huh? Got somethin' else to report?!"

Ray quietly chooses her words, before meeting his eyes without hesitance.

"Do me a favor," she requests seriously. "...and don't destroy my grave."

He takes a moment to digest her words, and his eyes narrow. "...Who gives a flying fuck?"

The two of them stare off for a moment, and then she turns without another word. She hurries back to the opening and slips inside, not even glancing back at him.

 _Please, don't destroy that grave._ That man is unpredictable and she's not sure how well he'll listen to her small plea, but somewhere inside her, she likes to think he would give her just that much.

 _I can't focus on that right now, though. The most important thing right now is finding a way to open that door._ Now on the other side, she works her brain for answers. _Speaking of… I think maybe those schematics on the table might be helpful after all._

She hurries back to the table where she'd seen the diary entry, and starts flipping through the papers tossed about. As she suspects, underneath the gravestone designs seem to be all-new, much more important schematics for various mechanisms, different than the rest.

Her eyes light up upon a certain page, and she picks it up quickly. _This… could it be a clue for the mechanism?_

It appears to be a sequence of squares, and she takes a deep breath. Figuring this out will most likely take quite a while to figure out, since it's not clear. She settles against the desk and puts on her best thinking cap, pushing aside thoughts of her companion and the grave awaiting her outside for now.

After all… she's not allowed to rest there until after she's gotten him out of here.

 **.x.X.x.**

"That _punk_ …"

In the other room, the hooded boy is stuck tapping his feet, back leaned against the polished gravestone with that girl's name on it. Zack's impatience is growing by the second, as well as his frustration with the entire situation. In fact, the more he pictures her face, the more agitated he becomes. His fingers toy with his messy black bangs and his scythe bumps against the stone behind him with his fidgeting.

Here he is, stuck in this hellhole with a creepy emotionless doll. Granted, she's been nothing but useful to him since he decided to use her brainpower for his own means, but every time he sees those absolutely cold and lifeless blue eyes of hers, it makes something inside him feel all kinds of weird and uncomfortable. There's no fun involved in associating himself with something that doesn't want to kick and scream for him.

 _Fuckin' hell…_

Then she fucking _left_ him here with that little 'request'. Or rather, _two_ requests. Not to touch her shitty gravestone and to go looking for some kinda mechanism.

 _Lock mechanism? Where the hell am I supposed to look for that? The only things around here are graves._

His rebellious side rears hard in his chest, disliking the idea of taking orders from a punk kid with a death wish, but at the same time… she _had_ been helpful at times already, and if she's onto something that'll get him the hell out of here quicker, then by all means, he might as well put some elbow grease into it too.

 _...I guess I can't sit here all day,_ he finally decides. _Fine. I'm game. I'll just have a look around and take in the morbid sights._

As he picks himself off her gravestone, he glares at the one supposedly for himself. The ragged, crude stone is such an eyesore that just even looking at it drives him mad. Zack clicks his tongue with irritation.

 _...Man, this grave is freakin' annoying!_ He grips his scythe, glancing over his weapon with a frustrated look. _Nothing' would make me happier than to smash it, but… as the little shit said, it'd ruin my blade. Maybe while I'm at it, I'll pick up something that can smash it._

He turns his gaze back to that girl's gravestone. It towers over even his own large rock, looking like marble compared to the ugly appearance of his.

 _...That kid's grave. Damn, even the letters are carved into it._ He reaches his bandaged fingers over to touch it, but withdraws it quickly, grimacing. _Mine doesn't have that. But… Well, even if it had 'em, I couldn't read it anyway._

For just a split instant, he regrets his illiteracy, but it's quickly swiped away. _Fuck it, not like I'm gettin' buried here anytime soon._

Zack moves on from the room, becoming excessively disgusted by the untouched gravestones littering the floor as he walks by them. It's not helping how much he dislikes this floor, nor how uncomfortable it makes him. He's had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach since he'd stepped foot here.

 _Shit. Where even do I start lookin' for a mechanism anyway-?_

With one hand on his scythe and the other stuffed deep into his pocket, the noiret wanders out into the second graveyard, the chilly air somehow seeping through his thick hoodie and gauze wraps. _Holy fuck it's cold here._

As he wracks his brain for answers on where to even start his 'search', a familiar gleaming object nearby causes him to pause. With an idea starting to form in his mind even as he starts toward it, a mischievous grin spreads over his face.

Next to that open grave with the dead guy (and his dismembered leg), a dirt-encrusted pickaxe sits upright, practically calling out to him with its availability. He reaches out to take the grimy handle in one hand, yanking it out from its perch and weighing it with a light toss.

"Oh, this'll do _nicely,_ " he says with glee, already imagining how easily he'd be able to pulverize that awful grave.

With both scythe and pickaxe in his grasp, the boy heads back to his destination of interest, already placing his other mission on the backburner. How can he concentrate on finding that mechanism when that stupid gravestone is nagging the back of his mind?

Coming up on it, he lightly tosses his scythe off to one side for now, favoring the use of the pickaxe in both hands for extra strength. Going around the stone and raising the tool, he slams it down on the rock with as much might as he can muster.

The tip of the sharp object stabs into the pocket but it barely cracks under his effort. With his muscles straining with the more difficult task in front of him, he grumbles to himself.

 _Goddamn it, it just won't break!_ Another powerful jab into the rock, the sound of metal clanging against stone loudly resonating within the room. This time it gives way more, spiderwebbing cracks splintering across its surface.

He goes wild on it, his adrenaline pumping hard as he reduces the gravestone to bits and pieces. The cracking and breaking sounds fill the air, and when he's finally done with it and it lies in shards along his feed, his grin is wide and pleased with his handiwork. He lets out a maniacal chuckle.

"That's what I'm talkin' about! This damn rock, givin' me trouble…" He breathes the words aloud, his chest heaving with exertion as he flicks a middle finger toward it. "For a shitty gravestone, you sure put up a tough fight."

Leaning the pickaxe against his shoulder like he would normally with his scythe, a brilliant lightbulb shines in his mind's eye as he scans his gaze over the room, a new thought occurring to him that proves to widen his smirk further. His fun doesn't have to stop here, now does it?

 _That's right, I just realized… these other gravestones are_ _now fair game too!_

Blinded by his excitement and energy, Zack runs toward the first line of innocent-looking gravestones. Swinging wide, he slams the pickaxe down into one, and it shatters like little more than clay under his attack.

 _Wha- they break as easily as tinker toys! I'm gonna keep smashin' 'em til I feel better!_

With his mirthful cackle resounding throughout the cemetery, Zack goes all out, breaking gravestone after gravestone without remorse. Heart pumping and heartbeat rushing through his ears, he destroys everything in his path, enjoying the rush of pleasure and elation that comes with being so reckless.

"Whoever made this grave? Take _that!_ " He calls out to the empty air, crushing another fragile stone with his trusty pickaxe. He hopes they can hear him breaking all of these _precious little graves_ they took their time to make, and his laughter as he does it.

 _Fuck 'em, this is way too much fun!_

After running out of stones in that room (and even after going at the taller stone monolith near the entrance and reducing it to rubble just for the hell of it), his thirst for more destruction isn't sated. _How about I smash_ _all_ _of the graves on this floor while I'm at it?! I mean, graves are just for a bunch of stupid-ass corpses, after all!_

Without thinking twice about it, he runs back out to where he'd found the pickaxe in the first place and focuses his bloodlust on the untouched stones there. The crashing sounds of the stones crumbling under his ruthlessness are music to his ears.

 _Almost all of them… and…!_

The last stone is subjected to a particularly hard swing down, and it splits in almost perfect haves, the jagged sides coming apart like paper under scissors.

 _...Nice!_

Standing back to admire all of the ravaging he'd done, Zack takes a moment to catch his breath. The tool is almost hot in his hand, and he's sweating hard under his bandages. He can feel the ache of unused muscles being subjected to his brutality along his arms. He hadn't hardly even noticed it at the time, because he was having far too much of a good time to care. Still, he wipes his brow like a man who'd just gone through a full day's work, and places a hand on his hip, letting the axe dangle by his side for a moment.

 _Damn, that was almost too good. Is this really all of them?_

Something else nags at the back of his mind, and unwittingly, the image of that stupid little girl's face comes back into his thoughts. He scowls at first, but then his brows knit together.

 _...Huh? What… what was I doin' again? Oh yeah- the mechanism._ Memory of his agreement to help out with it flood his thoughts once more, and her face when she'd asked him to do it. _...I was so busy smashin' that I wasn't keepin' an eye out. Was there anything? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a look around._

Deciding to take a moment to catch his breath and glance back over the graves he wrecked, he can only grin with achievement. _...but god damn, that was a blast._

Figuring that starting with the messy piles of gravestone was a fine place to start checking things out, Zack starts thumbing through piles of gravestones. He doesn't end up finding much in the leftover rubble in the first room, so he heads back in where he'd started and checks around there, too.

 _Like I'll find much of anythin' in here. If there_ _was_ _somethin', chances are I probably hacked it to pieces._ A tiny, tiny sliver of doubt pokes at his subconscious, but he ignores it. _...I'll keep lookin' anyways._

On his last row of the graves, he's beginning to chalk up his last twenty minutes of searching as a waste of time when, just when he's about to give up on the endeavor, he spots something strange sticking out that's vastly different from the rocks at a certain grave. He kneels down and brushes the rocks away.

 _...Huh?_

 _It looks kinda like… a switch, maybe?_

 _Well, there's only one thing left to do then!_

With a violent slam of his palm, he presses the button, and something far away makes an odd clicking noise. He glances around, eyes narrowing.

 _...Did that even do anything?_

 **.x.X.x.**

 _Hmm… this sequence of squares…_

Pacing back and forth with her brain trapped in an endless cycle of reasoning and logic, Rachel taps her slim fingertips against her chin, deeply entrenched in her thoughts. For the past while now she's been pondering the meaning behind the schematic she'd found.

 _There's sixteen of them, and a calculation written below… Could it be referring to graves?_

Harsh, loud crashing startles her back out of her thoughts for the umpteenth time. She's hardly been able to concentrate because of some odd, disruptive clanging and banging from outside the room somewhere. It's been going on for the past few minutes, and she's starting to feel a little bit concerned about her companion.

 _...What is that awful sound I've been hearing all this time?_

When it stops for a moment, she returns back to her thinking, seemingly catching onto the meaning behind the instructions.

 _If this refers to graves, then by matching up the calculation with them…_

Another loud crash. Her brow raises, and the corner of her eye twitches a bit with annoyance.

 _...just maybe something will happen here…_

When even more of that loud racketing noise pounds over her eardrums, her brows knit together with displeasure. Pursing her lips, her eyes scan the wall in the direction it had come from.

 _What the heck is that sound?_

Without prior warning, a loud clicking noise resounds from nearby her. Ray practically jumps from the abruptness of it, taking an involuntary step back with caution before realizing that the door she'd been trying so hard to figure out how to open… is now entirely open and accessible.

 _It's… it's open…?_

A nearly impossible thought floats through her mind, nearly too incomprehensible to believe at first, but the more she thinks about it, the more it can be the only option.

 _Did…_ _he_ _open it?_

Her icy blue gaze glances back the way she'd entered. For a moment she thinks about heading back to tell him it opened, but… she's sure that if she went back now, he'd only tell her to hurry up and check it out.

Cautiously, Ray approaches the open door. The entrance leads into absolute pitch darkness, and she squints her eyes, trying to see through it.

 _No chance. Wait… maybe that flashlight from before?_

Reaching into her purse and withdrawing the slightly dirty flashlight, she shakes it a little and toys with the button, and the yellowed light filters through the area. It's not bright enough to reach far, but it's enough to keep her from tripping over anything around her.

Holding the flashlight tightly in hand, she starts walking through the narrow passage, her footsteps the only sound. It's deathly quiet in here compared to the noisy room she'd been in before, and somehow, it's especially unnerving.

She turns a corner, and takes a step- and a fluttering, childish laugh resounds from somewhere she can't pinpoint. The sound of it breaking the thick silence startles her a bit, and she turns all around, checking for the presence of someone else.

The voice hadn't been familiar at all. So then… is there someone else waiting for her around the next corner…?

Proceeding with extra hesitance, Ray's grip on the light grows tighter, and she continues on around another turn to find herself in a large room. Flashing her light around to see what she can, she finds it devoid of life, thankfully. Nothing but a few bookshelves filled top to bottom with thickly bound hardback novels, and some strewn-about paper, seem to be waiting for her in the shadows, yet she can't shake the feeling that a pair of eyes are glued to her every movement. She risks a glance back to make sure she's not being followed, then explores inside.

She thumbs through the covers of some of the books. Some things about religion, history, a gravesite chart. Nothing worth reading, unfortunately. She used to love spending hours upon hours sitting in her room with her nose in a book. The lovely fairy tales and adventures she'd have as the main protagonist were a godsend, a reprieve whenever she wanted to be left alone or needed space outside reality. She would always choose books over… over much else, really.

Not much else except a big book and a few pens on a desk nearby are there for her to explore. She shines the light over toward the back of the room and catches sight of another passage. She tiptoes through it, following another strangely turning hall. As she reaches the end and rounds the corner, something down the way makes her take a double take into the darkness.

 _I think… I see something. I can make something out in the back. Is it a door? It wouldn't hurt to check._

Ray walks over to it, but as she steps directly in front of the closed door, something clicks underneath her feet. She withdraws her foot quickly in reflex, but nothing happens. She tests the area again, noting how the floor seems more hollow where she stands. When she stands on top of it, the sound of a switch echoes through the hall. But… nothing happens other than that.

Reaching out, she tugs, and then pushes, against the door in front of her, to no avail. It seems tightly shut and shows no sign of budging under her strength.

 _And there's no keyhole… again._ Using her brain, she ponders the situation before her. _There's this mechanism under my feet, but standing here on it doesn't seem to open it._

Realizing that the answer she seeks for this doesn't lie in this particular spot, she heads back into the archive room. _If that switch doesn't do anything now, maybe there's something elsewhere that might need to be pressed as well?_

Thinking there might be some schematics on the desk, she wanders over to check it out in hopes to get lucky and find what she's looking for. Her fingers dip into the pages of a thick book lying open on the smooth, dusty surface. However, instead of schematics, it seems to be full of resumes and profiles.

She flips through a few of them, not recognizing most except for the names she'd read on the graves in the front room. She does stop, however, upon noticing the name of the deceased man from before, Watkin Beckett.

 _...Are these profiles of everyone who's come here? And just as I thought, this guy died here._ The page details his age, date of birth, full name, the floor he'd died on, as well as list of victims and 'crimes', too. Upon her turning the page over to inspect the page, another few loose-leaf papers slip out between some other pages and flutter onto the desk.

She glances over the one on top, and blinks a few times. _This one… has my name on it,_ she realizes with a bit of curiosity.

Somehow, it talks about her in great detail. As she scans her gaze over it, the scary amount of description it has on her, from her full name to even the murder she'd witnessed, are laid out bare for anyone to read. She stares at it lifelessly for a moment, her head starting to pound a little, before tucking it under the pile and looking over the next, not wanting to revisit those details of herself right now.

 _Oh, there's another one here. It's someone else's…_

A blurry image is displayed on the front of what looks like stapled-together collection of pages. The typewritten bio is a little hard to read in the yellow light, but she makes it out barely.

' _Isaac Foster. Date of birth: unknown. Estimated age: 20s. In childhood, there is evidence that he was placed in an orphanage. The institution was unauthorized, therefore details surrounding it are unknown. Possible trafficking. The institution was later charged for substandard living conditions, but Isaac Foster was already missing by then. Concurrently, the bones of several children were found in the institution's yard. Moreover, also found is what is believed to be the slaughtered bodies of the proprietors There is a large gap between the period of death for the slaughtered children and the proprietors. Based on the slash wounds on the bodies inside the institution, the suspect is believed to be Isaac Foster._

' _The whereabouts of Isaac Foster are currently unknown. However, he is involved in a series of psychotic murders taking place several years later. The murder scenes extend to several locations. No obvious disposition for rituals at the time of crime. Has a tendency to react strongly to human emotion. Possesses great physical prowess, but is poor at planning. Lacks education and intelligence._

' _Further, his entire upper body is bandaged due to burns that are believed to be sustained during his stay at the facility in childhood.'_

Ray rereads that section a few times once over, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together more. Instead of feeling any fear, or worry, she simply… understands. In a way, she finds it a little interesting to learn about him like this. It's not like he would ever tell her these things himself, most likely. Even the part about the cause of his burns pokes at the back of her mind with curiosity, not terror. But…

...her mindset about him hasn't changed at all. She still wishes for him to kill her. Nothing written here has given her any reasoning to change her decision.

A little, handwritten section near the bottom of the information reads out:

' _Edit: Was originally assigned to B6, but was reassigned due to rule violation. Cause of death: N/A. Victims: N/A.'_

She ponders it a bit more, only cementing her understanding of the papers' contents.

 _This is…. probably him. He committed murder at the institution where he lived, and is a serial killer. I wonder… has he been murdering people here ever since?_

She keeps glancing over that one part of his bio. The blank bits that have yet to be filled in.

 _His victims part is empty. If I die… then my name will go here._ The thought feels strange to think about, her fingers lightly touching the empty entry. ... _He's on the run now though._

She gazes down at the inky words solemnly.

 _I wonder how many he's killed._

Knowing she's spent far too much time in this archive room, she thinks about it for a moment, and then takes the information about him and stuffs the folded pages into her purse for the moment.

 _I'll take this back to him for the time being._

 _Back… to Isaac Foster._

Risking one last, quick glance at her own file, she snatches it up and shoves it inside as well, then hurries back into the corridor to head back. When she does, however, she hears that laughter again. The same, childish giggling, emanating as if through the walls- or behind her.

"...Is somebody there?" she calls out loud, shining the light back to illuminate whoever it was, but finding nothing. But yet, she can sense their presence… like they're just out of sight somewhere.

"... _Umm_ …"

The reply comes as a bit of a surprise to her; Ray takes a step back quickly, but the voice continues on, not showing themselves to her yet.

"...I know what you desire." They sound young to her, a bit ghostly and disembodied, but warm toward her, almost caring. "I like you, so... I'll make you lovely."

"After all… this is _my_ domain."

They laugh again, lilting and light-heartedly, and it takes her a moment to register what they've said.

"...This floor's-" she begins to speak, but she's interrupted by a vicious pounding against the wall behind her, startling her to the point of nearly dropping her flashlight.

"Hey!" The voice of her companion- of Isaac- filters through the thin brick wall, the sound of him smacking a fist against the outside loudly echoing around her. "What're you fuckin' around for? _Hurry up!_ "

Brows pressing together for a moment, she turns back around to glance at where the voice had been, but the sense of another person's presence is gone. Yet, the feeling of being watched lingers instead. She frowns in thought, but then she adjusts her purse, tightens her grip on her flashlight, and takes a deep breath.

 _...Better head back for a bit._

With that thought, she turns her back on the hall and hastily puts distance between herself and the archives.

...Her every move being followed by a pair of green eyes.

* * *

 **A/n: Unbeta'd.**

Hey y'all. I'm here with chapter 5! I hope y'all are good in life. I'm currently on edge with real life stuff, but I'm still finding time to write for the novelization so uh... yeah. I'm kinda pleased with myself actually. I hope you're all enjoying this just as much as I am!

I originally intended to write the rest of episode 1 into one giant chapter, like Danny's floor was, but I went against it because I realized it'd be at _least_ twice as long as this currently is, if not even longer. And I know it's hard to sit through chapters as chunky as those, so I hope this is an alright cliffhanger-y chapter end for now. Hehehe.

Thanks for checking it out, and sit tight, next chapter will be an (epic?) doozy! Love y'all, thanks for reading, and leave me a review (maybe? :D)

Read on~!

~disclaimer~ I only own an aura of mystery and an identity you will never know, nothing more ^^


	7. The Gravedigger's Offer & The Spoken Vow

"...What's… _this?_ "

In all honesty, Ray was wholly unprepared for the sight that awaited her as she stepped through the crack in the wall once more. The moment her feet were solidly against the cobblestone, and she had straightened up enough to see, she had to double take.

Every single gravestone in the room except for hers lies in ruins. The stone bits are haphazardly strewn across the entirety of the room, each resting place destroyed and smashed to pieces. The hooded boy's grave especially is mangled to bits- most likely the first one to go, judging by the more immensely crushed nature of it all. He's pacing back and forth impatiently in front of her gravestone, twirling the handle of his scythe in his gauzy hands until he sees her.

Hearing her confused remark, he turns on his heel to look at her, eyes narrowing immediately.

"What took you so long?! What the hell were you up to?" His tone is accusatory, like he expects she was up to something else on her expedition. Her fingers tighten around the thick black strap of her purse.

"...I should ask you the same," she says with a frown.

The two of them wander toward the front of her grave. He's anxiously toying with his weapon, and she takes some time to explain what she found once the door was unlocked.

"Huuuuh? _Another_ one?!" He growls with irritation upon hearing there was yet one more locked door with a hidden mechanism. He taps his foot frequently. "God dammit…"

Pausing a moment, Ray recalls what she brought with her. Having nearly forgotten she'd stuffed it in her purse thanks to the surprise of his little crime spree, she pulls out the personal resume she'd taken from the archive room about herself and holds it out for him to see.

"Oh, and I found this." She shows it to him, and he squints at it for a moment.

"Huh?"

"It's a resume."

A little bit of light dawns on his face, but he still seems perturbed. "...A resume?"

Ray nods. "It's about me… 'Rachel Gardner'." It feels strange to say her name aloud like this, but in a way it's almost introductory; she's not sure he actually knew it to begin with.

"That's worthless _bullshit._ " His response is immediate, cutting off her thoughts. He scoffs at it and crosses his arms. "All it does is tell your story- nothing more, nothing less."

 _Tells… my story?_

The way he speaks strikes her funny somehow. Normally it would be a casual, brusque comment that she might've brushed aside, but for some reason, it seems deeper than that, like the thought of such a descriptive paper struck a nerve somewhere.

 _Is he saying that something like would only know an outsider's point of view? Like it… wouldn't actually know the person you are, only the life you've lead and the past that made you?_

 _...Maybe I'm overthinking it somehow._

She returns the paper upon his apparent disinterest, and instead withdraws his with hesitant fingers. He watches her movements like a hawk, silent in front of her as he drums his fingers along his scythe handle.

"Also… there was also one for some guy named Isaac," she says, choosing her words with careful precision and keeping an eye on his expression, observing how he seems to tighten up a little at the name. She inhales quickly, then blurts out the question she'd been mulling over.

"...Is that you?"

A heartbeat, then two passes without a word from him. Instead, they're caught locked in eye contact- her blue eyes curious, his gold and brown unreadable.

His features stay neutral as he speaks, his voice dropping lower than leaves brushing along the ground.

"...And?" he inquires slowly. "What are your impressions from reading that?"

 _Impressions?_

Her brows knit together at his odd question, and he chuckles under his breath before raising his chin defiantly in her direction.

"...Yep. That's right- I'm Isaac Foster."

That malicious, bloodlust-filled mask has come back to take over his expression, and he suddenly drops into an attack stance, gripping his scythe tightly with both hands like he intends to hit her with it. Ray takes a step back reflexively, unsure how to take the current situation. A wide, threatening smile spreads over his lips as he eyes her, waiting for her response.

 _Is he expecting me to try and run?_

Ray simply stands there, returning his gaze for a moment, before glancing away from him and answering truthfully- the same way he had.

"...Your impressions? Nothing special." She tucks the paper back into her bag, as if he wasn't standing there with his scythe poised to strike. "It's a sheet of paper about you. Nothing more… nothing less."

Her obvious lack of a reaction only serves to twist his features further. He straightens up, but his smile remains, only distorted with something else this time. She's been completely impervious to his attempts to rile her sense of terror, and he's failed each time. She wonders if he might feel disappointed.

Isaac's eyes burn into her own as he addresses her.

"Are you not afraid of me?"

Ray raises a brow at him. "Afraid? ...No, I'm not."

It's the truth, after all. Ever since that time in Danny's office, she hasn't felt a shred of fear of him. No… only longing. Longing for him to finish her off.

Yearning, to be killed by his hand. It really wouldn't make sense if she pled for death, then ran away from it.

He chuckles again, finding her words funny. She tilts her head as he turns away from her, snickering to himself, not understanding why he would think it amusing.

"A girl like you once said the same thing a long time ago," he comments, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"At first she was afraid, but once she got wise to me being the serial killer in the newspapers, she started acting different toward me. Then, she wouldn't shut the hell up. 'I'm not afraid of you!', or 'I'm your biggest fan!'." He quotes her with one hand, mocking her voice in a rough falsetto. He faces Ray again, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. "It was cute, so I gave her a five second head start, instead of the usual three—"

He simply shrugs his shoulders upon the last part.

"...Too bad she didn't make it very far. So when I tried to kill her, she went batshit insane."

Slowly, methodically, Isaac edges closer to Ray. He takes steps toward her like a predator stalking his prey, until he's standing over her, towering above her stature by at least a foot or so. She has to look up at him to meet his merciless eyes. His presence so close to her does make her heart pound- but not with fear. No, something else… perhaps relief, or excitement, would be the term?

"I didn't know what the hell to make of it," he continues on, not breaking eye contact with her. "...So I told her to hold still if she wasn't afraid. Then… She screamed that she only said that because she feared for her life. I guess the dumb bitch thought she could ass-kiss her way into surviving, eh?"

His voice is cold upon recalling his story, and he darkens considerably.

"I _hate_ liars. So… I killed her."

He raises his scythe, poising it above his shoulder and staring into Ray's eyes, as if waiting for something. She stands there, pondering the meaning of the whole thing, then blinks blankly.

"...Is that story supposed to relate to my request for you to kill me?" she asks him calmly.

"...Eh?" Her answer throws him off-kilter, and his expression falters for a second.

She shrugs her shoulders, then elaborates. "If I took the same approach, could I get you to kill me?" Then her face falls a bit upon remembering something else, frowning with her own disappointment. "Oh, right. You gave me three seconds, not five…"

Issac stares at her like she's the one who's psychotic, listening to her rationalizing and discussing the act without a hint of fright or disgust.

"...Are you fuckin' crazy?!" he gapes at her. Then he seems to remember the person he's talking to, and he steps away from her, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Oh shit, that's _right!_ This bitch _wants_ me to kill her! So her not being afraid… means…"

 _Did I upset him?_ His reactions don't make much sense to her, but she's able to guess that her lack of emotional response is probably what's gotten to him.

"What's wrong?" she inquires, and he waves a hand at her, grumbling under his breath. He moves back over to her and shoves it in his pocket, glancing off toward the ceiling.

"...Nothin'," he mumbles. Then he looks down at her, no longer as confused but genuinely curious. "So wait… why aren't you afraid of me?"

 _Why… aren't I…?_

This question itself throws a wrench into her at first, but the answer easily finds its way into her thoughts. Yes, he may be a serial killer, but there'd be no one as fitting as himself to kill her, for starters. But… at the same time, being around him like this with his statement that he would give her death, is somehow a relief on her mind. He's been nothing but truthful and honest about his personality and instincts to kill, and it gives her some strange feeling that gives her nothing to fear.

And… there's nothing truly left for her to fear, anymore.

"I don't even know you that well," she answers with the first thing that comes to mind, heaving her shoulders casually. This only serves to displease him. He sputters for a moment, before gesturing at her bag wildly.

"Know me? You read that paper, didn't you? Are you illiterate?"

"...I read it. But… I just met you earlier, so…" Ray shakes her head a little. "I still don't know much about you. Therefore, I have no interpretation of you."

Something changes behind his bi-colored gaze, but it's quickly hidden when he turns his back on her, throwing his hands in disbelief.

"Meh- have it your way then." He dismisses the topic with a wave, then halts. "Oh- is that all?"

Ray blinks. "...Umm… There was a mechanism in front of the door, but I believe there's another one, so I'm gonna take a look around here."

He nods. "...I see."

She recalls that person she'd encountered in the darkened hall, and something in the back of her mind prods her to tell Isaac about it.

"Oh, and… something else…" she trails off, and he frowns at her openly.

"You're _still_ not done?" he demands, but he quiets down at her solemn expression.

"I… I heard a voice," she spills to him. "I think it's from the master of this floor. The voice said… that it knows my desire…"

Even now, when she speaks about it like this, she wonders if she didn't imagine that voice. But, no- that couldn't be possible. It was far too real to be a figment of her imagination. But still, what does it mean by that?

Isaac's eyes widen, but he offers nothing. Something about the way he responds makes her think he knows or recognizes this from somewhere, but he offers no information. They're both silent for a few heartbeats longer, before he finally rubs the back of his head.

"...You don't say?" he murmurs, then faces away, abruptly cutting away from the topic. "...Hey, let's move."

Feeling as though he doesn't really want to talk about it any longer, she's ready to follow after him when he stops suddenly, something lighting over his face.

"Ah, but before we go…"

She doesn't have much time to register where his thoughts have headed before he turns around to look at her lovely polished gravestone.

"I just gotta smash this one too before it drives me up the fucking wall!"

"...! Wait!"

Her cry of protest is unheard as Isaac picks up the nearby pickaxe, which had been thrown aside, and unleashes hell upon her gravestone. She's helpless but to stand there while he annihilates the tombstone, reducing it to pieces.

Once he's through with it, his laughter rings out in the room once again, gleeful and accomplished.

"Sorry," he says, clearly none too sorry about what he'd done. "I'm OCD like that. This gravestone being the only one left was buggin' the shit outta me!"

Ray can hardly muster a response. Her eyes befall the ruined gravesite, silently mourning the loss of such a resting place.

 _I… suppose I'll have to find a new one._

"Hey," he says, waving the tool at her to draw her attention. "...Let's head out. There's no grave for you here."

Her eyes light at his words, surprised by the difference in his usual tone. He doesn't sound like he takes joy out of it as much- no, it nearly sounds… genuine. She gazes into his eyes, and he returns it with a little quirk of his mouth.

"Once we get out of this basement," he tells her firmly, "I'll find you a nice one."

He starts off without her again, not waiting for her response, but she's left standing there staring at the back of his hoodie, her fingers clutching tightly around the strap of her purse.

' _I'll find you a nice one.'_ If she didn't know any better, it was almost like he was doing it just… out of kindness.

No- that'd be silly, wouldn't it?

Yet, inside her chest, her heart that has grown so cold feels just a little bit warmer somehow, and she moves to catch up with him.

The two head toward the entrance of the room, Rachel a few steps in front of her companion. When they near the doorway, however, she sees something odd that they hadn't encountered when they'd been through here the first time. She glances at the hooded boy next to her, but he doesn't seem to react when he sees it. _It must not be his doing, then._

Ray leans down to pick up the small scrap of paper. The page is fresh, and there's a handwritten note on the inside.

' _Let me help you'._

Her dark eyes grow small with questioning, and she turns it over to inspect the back. Nothing. Empty save for that one sentence. And the handwriting… is familiar.

That's right. This handwriting must belong to that person— the one who spoke to her in the hall. He must've left this here.

...For her?

Her pondering of the note draws Isaac's attention. Impatient, he glances over her shoulder, trying to see what's stopped her.

"Hey, you find something?"

She starts to say something, to speak her mind, but then catches herself.

 _...It's pointless._

"It's nothing," she says, dropping the note back to the floor.

He just shrugs his shoulders, taking her word for it. "Whatever."

They re-enter the first cemetery, and her nose fills with the cloying scent of graveyard soil and stone dust. Greeted by the site of even more smashed graves, she tries to ignore the self-satisfied grin on her ally's face. Instead, she focuses on trying to figure out where the best place to start looking for the other half of the mechanism might be, and something resurfaces in her mind.

 _Wait. Back then… when we first arrived, I saw that strange thing in the water. It might not be what we need, but it can't hurt to check._ She leads the way, and he follows after her, kicking the stones at his feet that he had torn asunder.

As she beckons him over, she sees another note lying properly against the cobblestone, folded neatly. She again picks it up, holding it between her slim, pale fingers to read.

' _If you want to suffer, I'll make it painful. If you want to go without pain, I'll be gentle. —Whichever way you prefer.'_

She says nothing, only letting the paper fall from her fingertips. Isaac eyes it himself, but he doesn't ask her about it, simply watching her expressionless face.

They move on into the room they first came through, and immediately there's another note at her feet.

' _Hey! How do you wanna die? I'll gladly kill you.'_

 _Why…?_ All of these notes are making her head spin a little in a dizzying merry-go-round of thought. _Who is this, and why does he keep leaving these for me? Is he… trying to convince me to…?_

"...Whaddaya keep stopping for?"

Isaac's voice pierces through her strange thoughts as he crosses his arms beside her, scythe gleaming in the light. Knowing there's no point in hiding the notes any longer, she simply raises her blue-eyed gaze from the paper to look at him.

"It says… ' _I'll gladly kill you,'_ " she says emotionlessly.

He blanks for a moment— and then blows air between his lips dismissively. "...Pff."

Deciding that was probably the only kind of reaction she'd get, she releases the paper and moves on, deciding to put it out of her mind for the time being. Instead, under his supervision, she goes onto the bridge over the water and peeks out, toward the previously unidentifiable object from before.

"Is that… what I think it is?" almost certain, but still a little bit doubtful, Ray voices her thoughts aloud for him to hear. He steps around her and leans over to get a better look as well.

"Oh? That?" He tilts his head. "What're we gonna do about it?"

"I'm not sure," she admits, but she's already forming a plan in her head. "But, I want you to go in there and stand in that submerged area."

His sudden yelp of surprise nearby causes her to jump, and she reels to look at him. His face is contorted in confusion.

"In the water? _Me_?" He sounds as if he hasn't been this bewildered in a long time, his heterochromatic eyes flashing. His voice is filled with disbelief. "You want _me_ to do _what_?!"

 _Is he afraid of the water, or something?_ Ray lightly shrugs her shoulders.

"Well, if you're going to cry about it, then…" she says with a raised brow, and he immediately reacts.

"Hey, I didn't say I wasn't gonna do it! Unlike you, there's no way in hell I'd die in a place like this!" He growls, leaning his scythe up and over his shoulders and glaring at her. "You've been silent as shit this whole time. Anyways, don't get any crazy ideas about dying or being killed! I'm not gonna be stuck down here any longer than I gotta be!"

That prickling, small doubt that's been tugging at her conscience rears its ugly head once more in the back of her mind. Her eyes grow darker, and she nearly becomes shy, quieter than even before.

 _He says that, and yet, I…_

"...Are you really gonna kill me?" She can't stop the words from exiting her mouth, self-deprecating. "I'm… I'm such a nobody…"

Isaac takes one look at her face, and his own immediately flashes strangely. With a loud grumble of his own, he suddenly turns to face the water, and hops in without a single word. The liquid splashes violently around him and even sprays a bit on her with the action as he submerges himself in it, dropping into a crouched position. However, once he straightens up- with one hand holding his weapon up on his shoulders- the water barely reaches his waist.

Once he's in, he curses under his breath at the coldness, and then swishes his way around to gaze at her. His eyes are narrow and stare directly at her, unflinching.

"If you wanna die so bad," he says, "why don't you just kill _yourself_?"

Her soul internally balks at the mere idea. Flashbacks of hours spent poring over her Bible remind her of the oaths she'd given in that respect, and she shakes her head.

"...Because it's unforgivable," she states.

"Huh?" His brow rises with inquiry. "Why's that?"

"Because, it's…" she struggles to find the right thing to say to make him understand. "...will of God…?"

His face scrunches up distastefully. "Hell if I know."

"Well, even I'm not entirely sure. But, if it's the word of God, then it must be absolute. ...It's unforgivable," she says firmly.

 _That's what it said, and that's what I believe. God makes only the most righteous of rules, and they cannot be broken._

However, Isaac has other thoughts. He snickers to himself, and she frowns at him.

"Oh… _God_ says so, huh…?" he says, an odd smile lighting on his face before disappearing once more. Tapping his weapon against his hoodie lightly, he nods to himself.

"In that case, you've gotta prove your worth to me before I can kill you."

 _Prove my worth? But how?_ She has already agreed to help him leave the building in exchange for death. Is she still not good enough to receive it?

"What do you want…?"

"Make yourself useful," he says, like it's the silliest question she's asked so far. Then he adds on; "Also, if I'm gonna kill you, can you try to make it worth my while? Show anger, or cry for your life."

 _Show anger? Cry for my life?_

The thought of doing something like that seems… superficial. If she pretended to do it, wouldn't that be fake? But, if it's what he desires…

Without hesitation, Ray drops to her knees in front of him, clasping her hands in front of her. Using her best acting skill she can muster, she contorts her face in expressions of fear and anger, to appease him.

Isaac stares at her for a good long minute, before he dryly frowns.

"Um, y'know… human facial muscles are suppose to show emotion. Um... you sure you aren't already dead?"

Eh?

 _Did I fail to show it correctly? Maybe I should… try to work on that for him._

She clears her throat a bit, then raises her chin, her lightless eyes peering into his.

"I'm alive, so I want you to kill me," she says slowly.

He waves his free hand dismissively. "Ahh, fine, fine. Hey, can you give me a smile?"

 _A… A smile?_

It seems like… a long time, since she'd smiled last. In fact, she can hardly remember that time.

Ray pulls together as much effort as she can, welling it into her will- and then slowly, a soft, tiny smile curls her lips. She aims the action at him, hoping that this would be enough to allow him to strike her down.

His eyes widen. He's silent as he watches her, fingers tightly wound against the handle of his weapon but unmoving— and the longer the seconds tick by, the more doubtful she becomes. The quirk of her lips melts away as she examines him, trying to read the expression on his face.

"...How's that?" she finally asks.

It takes him a moment to answer, and then he reaches up to scratch his stray black locks haphazardly.

"...You're dead in the eyes," he says, almost with disappointment.

 _Oh._ In that regard, well… there's not much she can do, is there? Still, she feels a tinge of regret for failing such a simple task.

"Yeah… that's no good," she says, her face falling further than before. He only grumbles more in response, glancing away and running his thickly bandaged fingers through his bangs.

"What're we wastin' time on this crap for…?" he asks, as if only to himself more than the young girl before him. He inhales sharply, then jabs a thumb back toward the darkened area in the water, the liquid sloshing around him. "Hey, so… I just need to stand on top of that thing over there?"

She nods quickly, and he quickly wades over and stands on top of it. A click is heard, faint but definitely the sound of a mechanism a work.

"Well?" he says, and her attention is drawn to him. "Hurry and get over there! It's cold and gross over here."

Ray picks herself up and dusts off her clothes. "...Okay."

He observes her, not enjoying the way she seems to take her time. "Move it, before I turn into a human popsicle!"

"Got it," she says, and he murmurs to himself.

"Do you really 'got it'? Cause I don't think you do…"

She doesn't bother to respond to that. Instead, she internally promises herself not to disappoint him. If she does, he won't kill her, which is already at risk considering how much of a dull person she is.

If she doesn't prove her worth to him, then he might not give her death- and she can't let that happen.

Picking up her pace, she hurries back to the other room and slips through the crack, using her determined will to push herself faster. However, as she walks the hall back into the room full of schematics, she spots another unnatural note on the floor.

 _Is that another one from him…?_

She takes it and holds it up to the light, the handwriting starting to become all too familiar.

' _Don't be startled. You know why? Because we are one and the same with our desires!'_

Her frown deepens a bit, and she's starting to feel a tad uncomfortable now. That feeling of being watched has returned— stronger than ever.

She risks a glance around the room, but of course no one is there to jump out and yell boo at her.

 _I must be paranoid, but… I wonder if that boy from before is around, waiting…_

She moves quickly to the opened door at the other end of the room, re-entering the darkness, Fumbling into her purse, she pulls out her flashlight and switches it on, the yellow light illuminating barely enough for her to see safely.

Just at the edge of her vision is another note, causing her brows to knit together.

' _I shall grant you what you desire, but I've got my own desires as well.'_

This person… whoever they are, they seem determined to the point of obsession with her desire. Her mind is churning with information and her own inquisitiveness.

 _What exactly do they want from me?_ Thinking on it, the notes themselves seem solely for herself. Isaac didn't seem affected by their presence, and none of them have addressed him. And, judging by the way that child had spoken to her before, their target of interest seems to be her.

 _...but why?_

A few more steps, another note. She's starting to wonder if he might run out of paper soon, will all these tiny scraps being left behind.

' _If possible, I want you to devote yourself to me. I mean— isn't it great being in love?'_

In… love?

 _Who's in love? What do they mean? And to devote myself… like a servant? I… I do not desire such things._

It's sounding more and more like the mysterious message sender is doing this all for an ulterior motive…

She crosses through the archives room with no incident, but again a note crosses her path.

' _I know all about you! You want to die, right?'_

How could they know all about her? But, in one respect, they're correct; she does, indeed, choose death. But…

 _...what does that have to do with them? I've already asked Isaac to kill me; what exactly do they have to gain by doing that?_

Halfway through the last hall to the mechanism, she runs into one last final message.

' _Right? So— just say 'yes'!'_

Say yes to what? Throughout each message, it sounds as though they're trying to propose something specific, but it's just not clicking… or, she just chooses not to understand.

Finally, she sees the mechanism in front of her. Carefully she steps onto the platform, and then tries the door, hoping internally that Isaac hadn't moved from his watery place.

The door, with a bit of elbow grease, opens for her, revealing that she'd been right all along. She has little time to bask in the small victory. The moment the door creaked open, she heard it.

That laughter… the childish, high giggling that echoed around the hall last time. It's there once more, reverberating throughout the area… sounding close by.

 _...He's near, isn't he?_

That question is answered by the prickling of the hairs against the back of her neck, her underlying paranoia rising. She glances behind her into the darkness, seeing nothing.

 _...I can't waste time like this. Isaac's waiting for me— I have to hurry._

Choosing to ignore what her inner senses tell her, Ray moves headlong into the room ahead of her, flashlight gripped tightly in hand.

 **.x.X.x.**

"... _Shit._ How long do I gotta stay in this water for?"

Zack can honestly say that he was never a fan of swimming before- but right now, he knows for damn sure that he's an enemy of doing it in full clothing. He can feel the ice-cold, frosty liquid seeping through his pants and his shoes, leaving his socks uncomfortably sloshy and wet and even other unsavory places to be practically soaked. It feels like he's been standing in this nasty, grimy water for hours, but that girl had left only a little while ago.

He hadn't really expected her to force him into this stupid situation, either- she's getting mighty bold, asking him to do things and expecting him to follow through. If he wasn't so damn desperate to get the hell out of here, he'd just cut her down anyways.

...But, there'd be no fun in stabbing through her when she can't even smile properly. The image of her smile sticks in his mind, as if it's been branded there with a hot iron. He'd been forced to watch her push herself to seem normal for a few seconds- he'd nearly busted out laughing at her attempts to feign being angry and upset.

Yet, her smile, well… that was another story. She couldn't even do that much right. He watched her force that paper-thin curve onto her lips and it was like witnessing a mannequin come to life for a second, almost a true attempt at looking alive. An _effort_ at realism, but still artificial; fake as hell.

Even though he knew it was a facade, and that her smile wasn't genuine in the slightest, it still startled him. Her dedication to trying to please his whims is also a whole different kind of monster. Yet, even with her half-assed attempt at smiling, he still didn't feel like cutting her to pieces like the rest.

 _I'm just gonna blame it on her weird, dead expression. She might as well already be a goddamn stiff with her lack of emotions._

Well… he says 'lack', but that wasn't entirely true. She does kinda possess them, but only at some times, like when she requested he didn't destroy her fancy grave and her blue eyes had flashed with _something-_ but it wasn't a 'good' emotion. It's like the cheerful and happy emotions have been cut off entirely.

 _Eh. It's not really_ _my_ _problem, I guess._

The image of her with that dejected expression on her face earlier haunts him, however. He can't put his finger on why, but it irks him to no end to recall her words.

" _Are you really gonna kill me? I'm such a nobody…"_

Who is she to decide who he can and can't kill, anyways? He never had told her that he wouldn't put her out of her misery, but she honest to god didn't seem to think she deserved it.

 _...What the hell._

Outside his thoughts, the panel underneath his feet suddenly clicks, tearing him from his internal dialogue. He glances down, eyes widening.

 _Hey… I think this thing rang underneath here…!_ A pleased grin stretches across his face, thinking she'd gone and done exactly what she said. _That means I can move now, right?_

Hurrying to rid himself of the nasty, slimy water all around him, Zack drags his feet through the gross coldness and yanks himself up over the side of the bridge, placing his scythe first and then pulling his body weight up and onto it. Quickly returning to his feet, he shakes out his pants legs, still drenched and icy cold, especially now that he's back in the freezer-like temperatures.

 _Jesus christ, why the hell is it so damn cold down here?_

After patting himself down a bit to rid himself of some of the water, his mind's eye flashes to her whereabouts. Something stirs faintly in his chest.

 _Wonder how she's doin?_

 _Guess I'll head back to that hole…_

Making squeaky, wet footsteps, he starts heading back to cemetery. He has to admit, every time he walks through and sees what he did to those gravestones fill him with pride. God, the feeling of that pickaxe in his hand and the elation of ripping them to shreds still gets his adrenaline going.

As he starts to wander through, the lights above his head flicker strangely. He stops, glancing up at the light fixtures. They continue to fade in and out, the sounds of electricity zapping through and shorting faintly heard.

 _Huh? What the-?_

 _...Looks like some dumbass forgot to pay the electric bill. Damn rat trap of a place._

For some reason, he's reminded of when that girl was picking up those odd notes on the floor. He couldn't read them himself, dismissing them as litter or something, but he saw her expression as she read them. Still unchanging, and yet, curious.

" _It says… 'I'll gladly kill you.'"_

Fuck that. No one's gonna just take away his kill. If she thinks for one second that he'll let someone else take her life, she's dead wrong.

...Especially the punk running this floor.

He continues on, re-entering the second cemetery. However, despite what he expects, she's still not back. Only silence greets him a she approached the crack in the wall. He ducks down, peeking through to try and see any sign of the little brat, but getting only darkness and a little dust in his eyes.

 _...She's still not back._

Zack can't say he's worried, but she seemed like it wouldn't take much to off her- if she died in there triggering the mechanic, then how the hell would he know?

 _What the hell's inside there anyway?_

 _If that bitch bolts on me—_

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, his grip on his scythe tightens. Yet, he knows that wouldn't happen. She's too dead set on being murdered by him to run off.

 _What the hell is up with her, anyway? Won't run away, and all emotionless._ He's suddenly pacing in front of the crack, his weapon tapping against his shoulder with the movement. His eyes are narrow as he contemplates her. _Yeah- killing her would be boring as fuck._

She'd probably just stare at him as he did it. Wouldn't even scream, or cry, or plead for the pain to stop.

...But…

He's becoming more unsettled with the seconds that tick by without her appearance. He doesn't understand why he keeps thinking of her.

 _Apart from the dead-eyed stare, she almost looked alive back there…_

He doesn't get why it even matters, but he almost _wants_ her to look alive. Normally the sight of someone smiling or laughing or even seeming semi-happy in any way gets his blood boiling enough to slice them in two, but not her.

What's the deal with her?

"... _Argh!_ " He reaches up with his free hand and violently scratches at his black hair, his grumbling echoing in the quiet room with his frustration and impatience. "I'm about to go outta my mind!"

The electrical sizzle alerts Zack just before the lights flicker over his head again. He frowns with annoyance.

"...Not again."

They flicker again, each time longer than the last- and without warning, the room goes completely dark. HIs irritation goes through the roof immediately.

" _Oh,_ are you freakin' _serious_?"

It's entirely pitch black. He can't see anything in front of his face, and it puts him on guard out of reflex. He stays where he is, wondering if the lights might come back on soon.

Nearby, very quiet but loud in the eerie silence, he hears the sounds of rocks crunching underfoot. His gauzy hand holds tight to the handle of his weapon.

He's no longer alone in this room.

"...Who's there?" he calls out. _Could it be the kid coming back?_

"You _grave desecrator._ "

The voice that responds to him is nothing like the light, soft and polite tones that she uses. No; this voice is more bratty, a little snotty and uppity— exactly the kind he despises.

The fixtures overhead flash back on, and for a moment he's blinded by the sudden influx of brightness. His eyes take a moment to adjust, and then he can focus on the newcomer staring holes into him from nearby.

On the other side of her broken grave, a kid a foot shorter than himself stands there and glares. He's dressed in a dirty white shirt and dark, work denim overalls. He wears a pair of work boots and red gloves, and a pumpkin-like head cover with a couple uneven eye holes and a slit for the mouth. Green eyes peek through the mask, and he takes time to adjust the blood red scarf tied around his neck. Gripping in one gloved hand happens to be the handle of a dirt-encrusted shovel.

Zack takes a moment, thinking he misheard the kid. "...Huh?"

It's a second of thinking to remember him, but he already knows who this dumb kid happens to be. _That's right, this is this little freak's floor. Eddie._

"Howdy, Zack!" The boy bows his head, his tone taking a double-edged polite tone that holds no warmth whatsoever. He tsks audibly, looking over the ruined graves with sorrow. "I had a nice spot for you with everyone else, but you ruined your own grave? You're insane."

Already, the hooded man's starting to get pissed off. A lowkey smirk crosses his face, and he braces himself with his scythe, preparing to take off Eddie's head without a second thought.

"...That may be," he states, his tone surprisingly calm despite his readiness to attack. "But don't you think mine was a piss-poor excuse for a grave? — _No?!_ "

He strides forward, using the crumbling remains of the girl's grave to propel himself forward, slashing hard at where that snarky kid stands. The lights flicker and go out at the same time, and in the darkness, his scythe crashes down onto the cobblestone, the tip getting wedged into the floor. The room illuminates again to show Eddie off to his left now, his cocky smirk visible through his mouth hole.

"...Damn you," Zack growls, yanking the weapon out and gripping it tight in both hands.

" _Sorry~_ ," Eddie says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Due to the circumstances, yours was a bit of a rush job; the hole's only half dug. But your tombstone's just fine. It fits you to a 'T', if you catch my drift," he chuckles.

 _This little punk-ass brat…!_

He sprints toward him with bloodlust, wielding the scythe with precision. "How about I dig _your_ grave first?"

The lights go out once more. His frustration grows exponentially as he again misses his blow, the action serving only to clang the weapon back into his grasp with force as he hits the floor. As the brightness returns, he hears the kid laughing from behind his back. He whirls around, breathing hard with adrenaline pumping through his veins to see the masked boy balancing easily on top of one of the big pipes at the side of the room.

"Well, enough about you," Eddie says flippantly, waving off his enemy's attempts to attack with a dismissive gesture. "I'm much more interested in getting that girl's grave finished. I'm…"

He inhales softly, and grips a fist tightly against his chest dramatically.

"...I'm in love."

 _...Huh?_

Zack can't even begin to comprehend what the punk just said. He's struck dumbfounded for a moment, listening to him ramble on to himself with a dreamy tone in his voice.

"It's always the same thing; making graves for murders day in and day out. I was getting a touch bored. Sure, making graves is my passion, but the bodies that occupy them are not quite as lovable. Beauty is what they lack." He sighs, taking a few lazy steps along the pipe as he speaks. "But for that girl… I want nothing more than to make the grave of my dreams for her! I think we're around the same age, too... Most of all, I want to show her I understand her!

"We're _made_ for each other…! That should be infinitely more beautiful than some- some sloppy and mangled corpse! Oh, but if she should desire it… sloppy is perfectly fine too." He giggles happily, stuck in his fantasy.

Zack has to stop himself from vomiting up the rest of what little food he'd eaten. The little bugger is gross as hell, talking about _love_ and acting like he's part of some dreamworld.

And he knows the kid's talking about _her_ \- about that blonde girl. And just the thought of him trying to sweep her up into his little lovey dovey world makes his stomach churn and his temper burn hot as hell.

"...Are you _tryin'_ to make me hurl?" he demands, swallowing back the oncoming torrent of disgust. Eddie instantly takes offense.

"What? My sophistication makes the perfect match for her. Too bad I can't say the same for you!" As if to punctuate the statement, he sticks out his tongue. "That's why the one who will be taking her life... is _me._ "

The words strike a nerve somewhere, and Zack feels himself tense up. Right now, all he wants to do is rip up the asswipe and wash the floor with his blood. Just the idea of him getting near Rachel with those nasty intentions… he wants to murder him.

"Sounds like some little punk—" he rushes forward, weapon drawn to attack again. "—doesn't know his place!"

Darkness envelops them again. This time, though he hits empty air on his first attempt, he swings around and lunges again despite not being able to see. Eddie's laughter echoes in the room, and he's only becoming more riled.

 _Shit! I can't see my hand in front of my face!_

After wildly searching for him in the black room, the ability to see finally comes back. This time, the brat is no longer around, his giggling trailing behind in the emptiness. Zack's only able to scan the room for him, knowing he's gotten away like a coward.

"...Fuckin' punk! Damn him...!"

Chest heaving with his exertion, only one thought is at the forefront of his mind.

 _She doesn't know. She's stuck in there and he's coming for her._

 _Shit…!_

Before he can catch his breath, he flies to the crack in the wall, slamming his fists into the wall and yelling into it. He feels nearly possessed in his struggle to prevent that self-absorbed prick from getting to her.

 _She's gotta hear me!_

"Hey! _Get your ass back here!_ "

 **.x.X.x.**

"...it's cold."

Rubbing her shoulders softly to generate a tiny bit of warmth, Ray carefully steps forward into the unknown darkness ahead.

A violent clang sounds behind her, and she whirls around to see that the door she'd entered has shut tight. She quickly grasps the handle, struggling with it.

Locked. It won't budge an inch.

Light giggling filters through the hall around her. Her shoulders stiffen a little, and she turns around to face ahead again.

… _I guess I can't go back now. I wonder if Isaac stepped off the panel..._

As she walks, her flashlight suddenly falters, the yellow light turning off and on in her hand. She shakes it in her hand, trying to alleviate the problem.

 _Something must be wrong with it,_ she frowns. It would be unfortunate to get caught in here without a light source.

A few more steps, and the problem occurs again, the light flickering. She tries to shake it again, even flipping the switch a few times. _Why is it acting like this?_

It immerse her in the total darkness again, and she manages to get it to light up again—

—to reveal someone standing directly in front of her.

Taken off guard, she steps back, nearly stumbling over her own two feet reflexively. The light goes out, and when it returns, the figure is gone.

She knows it wasn't a trick of the light… was it? It certainly seemed like someone had stood right there, inches from her, wearing a strange pumpkin mask…

 _I need to hurry out of here._

She turns the corner of the winding hall, running into more problems with the flashlight. _Is it running out of juice?_ Unfortunately, she hadn't thought to search for spare batteries...

Hoping to find somewhere brighter before the object gives on her entirely, she hurries onward, seconds from coming into what appears to be a large room before it goes out again.

 _...Jeez._

The light stays out longer this time, despite how she fiddles with it- and finally it flashes back on- revealing that same person standing before her again. This time she gets more of a chance to see their attire- baggy overalls and gloves- before the light disappears.

" _Hey Rachel… I'll grant your desire."_

The voice beckons to her lovingly, before vanishing into the darkness as her flashlight comes back to life. She stands there for a moment, staring at the place they had stood.

 _Was that… a person?_

She explores her way further into the room, slow and checking around for more signs of the apparition. From what she can tell, it's a wide room with a strange bunch of devices set up against the wall. The sounds of trickling water can be heard nearby, which she finds runs along one edge of the area with large pipes connected to it. She checks out the setup, seeing a fan and a device for changing water temperature. A large cabinet is nearby too, labelled with a small note that says ' _Only for my use'_.

Edging closer to the pipes, she sees a small, nearly hidden thermostat on one of them reading the current water temp. Her eyes narrow sympathetically reading the dial.

 _...The temperature is quite low. Now I feel a tad guilty for making Isaac stand in the water. I'll raise the temperature._

She moves back to the line of controls against the wall, noticing there's quite a few dials and switches. Finding the right one, she starts to turn it up.

"Rachel, no!"

Her hands freezes against the dial. She backs up slowly, glancing around. The voice was crystalline clear, sounding right next to her and far away at the same time.

 _...Huh?_

The light in her hand flickers and fades out suddenly, submerging her in the murky dark. She quickly flicks the on and off switch, trying to force it on.

It pops to life abruptly, and she finds herself nearly nose to nose with the apparition from before. The jarring appearance nearly causes her to drop the flashlight, and she jumps back, with them trailing her slowly.

"Don't act so surprised," he tells her gently, throwing out his arms welcomingly. She can see now that he has a shovel in one hand, and emerald green eyes peek at her through the mask. She can almost make out the tiniest smile hidden behind it, too. "The one talking to you this whole time has been none other than me!"

 _So this is the one from back then, too. I knew the voice sounded familiar to me._ She still takes a few more steps in reverse, and she watches how he unflinchingly moves to close the distance.

"There's no need to run! I won't fly off the handle and kill you like the others," he assures her. "Besides… I know what you desire."

Still trying to put space between the two of them, she moves onto the small platform above the water. She can hear it moving underneath her— and then her back is pressed against the wall, leaving her with nowhere else to go. The water is on either side, and he is blocking her path.

He has her perfectly cornered.

"...My desire?" she inquires quietly, eying him.

"Yes, that's right. No worries- I know _everything_ about you!" His giggling fills the room around her, high-pitched and cheeky.

"...About your father and mother, and those close to you; _everything._ "

She stiffens immediately hearing his words. Unwanted images flash through her mind for a moment, before she forcefully blocks them out again.

The documents she took with her… he must've been the one who wrote all of it.

Ignorant of her reaction, he continues on, unrelenting.

"If it were me, I'd take your life as painlessly as possible, and even make the perfect grave for you! Plus, just look at me! You and I are even around the same age- we're practically made for each other!"

He's terribly close now, and she can smell the extremely potent scent of graveyard soil emanating from him. Her hand is gripped tightly around the flashlight.

"...I…"

She doesn't know what to say to him. It seems like most of what he's said is nonsense, but what stands out the most is what he offers her.

...Her own death.

"What are you so silent for?" he asks her, bewildered by her lack of response.

He reaches up, and she finds herself shying away from his gloved hand as he touches her cheek. The flashlight is fading in her hand, throwing them both into the darkness. Despite being in this room with him, she's starting to feel alone… and trapped.

"Please, Rachel…"

She can hear his breath close to her face, feel the icy wind chilling her skin. Her eyes have screwed shut now, her discomfort and hypersensitive nerves growing with every passing second. Ray's body is wound tight with tension as he leans in nearer in the dark.

"...Please say _yes_."

 **.x.X.x.**

"— _Hey!_ Get back out here! I _said,_ get your ass back here _now_!"

Zack's kicked, punched, even broken the crack wider in his rush to reach the girl, but no matter what he does, she hasn't returned or made a peep since.

Slamming his bandaged fist against the wall angrily, he tries to force his goddamn brain to _think._

 _Shit! Can she not hear me...?! How freakin' far in did she go? Ugh…_

His pulse is racing hard in his veins with frustration and anger at this point. Not only is he unaware of if she's okay in there or not, but he keeps thinking about that smug little punk and what he said. At this point, he might be doing who knows what to her, and just the idea of that snotnose getting away with it makes him want to punch a hole through something.

 _That grave-diggin' dipshit… Thinkin' he can outwit me._

Every time he recalls that god-forsaken spiel about that freak's feelings, it makes him sick. He's not sure why it affects him so strongly like this, but he can't help but want to turn the kid's face into mush.

 _He's in love with her and wants to kill her himself? ...The thought makes me wanna puke!_

He stands there fuming for a few moments, trying to come up with a plan. He keeps imagining what might be going on in that back room somewhere, wherever she'd gone. Hell, for all he knows, that cocky bastard might already have done something.

 _...I gotta do something. I can't have her dyin' on me yet._

Zack wracks his brain for information, recalling what she'd told him earlier on.

 _She mentioned something about another room in the back on the right. Wasn't there a crumbling wall there?_

He doesn't have to debate himself twice. Instead, he grips his weapon in both hands, and runs out of the room, his footsteps loud as he makes tracks for the crack he'd seen. He only barely remembers it because of her, when she'd told him to wash his hands over there.

 _She better not fuckin' be dead already!_

Slamming open the door, he runs to the crack. As he nears, he can hear something, just barely through the sounds of rushing water. He leans in close to the crack, straining to hear more.

He can just barely tell what it is, just close enough for him to hear it. Voices.

His eyes light up immediately. Zack's found his target at last- the source of the voices have got to be them. He might be just in time.

He wastes no time in slamming his fist down onto the thick stone wall, hoping he's not too late to put an end to whatever the hell's going on in there.

"Hey! Can you hear me!? Are you there?!"

 **.x.X.x.**

"Rachel? What's troubling you?"

She's starting to feel stuffed up here, with this odd person. She's barely been able to muster words, uncertain what to say to him. He's thankfully backed off a little, but she thinks if she sets him off somehow, he might do something rash.

And… thinking about it, she's starting to feel a little steel in her resolve.

"Go on!" He demands her to respond, gripping her shoulders in both hands. "Tell me your desire!"

She inhales, softly- and gives him the answer he wants.

"...I want to die."

"Look- I told you so," he says, smug in his conviction. His hands ease away, and he takes a step back, gesturing with open arms.

"Err… Rachel, let me put you out of your misery. So- will you say 'yes'?"

She's watching him calmly now. Despite his rattling her for the word he so desires, she finds herself stopping to think.

She had asked Isaac to kill her before, and he had said that he would. Now, however, this person is offering to do it, mostly likely the moment she agrees.

It's supposed to be what she wants. However, something is tugging at her heartstrings somewhere, something buried in her chest she doesn't understand, that's preventing her from simply accepting it and allowing herself to be killed. The promise from before, to help Isaac escape from this place- it's stopping her.

 _I…_

"I'm getting impatient!" He says, his voice becoming strained and higher with his irritation. Tapping his foot, he stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand the expressionless puzzle she presents. Somethings lights then behind that strange mask.

"C-Could it be…" he whispers, growing angry. "... _his_ doing?"

... _His_ _doing?_

 _Oh- he must mean…_

"Tell me," he commands, inching closer again. "Why are you with Zack?"

The reply comes easier this time. "I promised to let him kill me."

He gapes at her, his green eyes hardening. "What? That's- That's so messed up! I even offered to kill you myself, too…"

"...But, if I let you, he won't be able to get out of here," she tells him.

"Is that all?" he tsks at her, rolling his eyes. "That shouldn't even be a problem!"

Before he can try to convince her further, a sharp, loud banging issues from behind her head. She blinks for a moment, hearing what sounds like someone kicking or punching the wall. A voice filters through the noise, yelling out at them.

" _Hey! Can you hear me? Are you there?!_ "

…! That voice…

"Ugh," the boy before her says dejectedly, hissing between his teeth. "Looks like the loudmouth's here."

He moves in closer, forcing her to back against the wall.

"Choose who will be your killer!" he presses. "Him? ...Or me?"

The boy tenderly reaches out to her, touching a stray lock of her long blonde hair.

"My sweet Rachel... Let me lovingly put you to rest."

"Sophisticated? More like _medicated_!" Isaac's taunts reach their ears, along with more slamming. "You gonna kill her with that boring look on her face?! What a fuckin' idiot!"

"Oh, will you shut _up_!" the other boy growls out. "Rachel and I are _talking_!"

"—Hey, can you hear me?"

She can hear how close his voice is. The wall between them is made of thick stone, but she can hear him clearly, like he must have his face near the wall itself. He's purposely trying to grab their attention- to catch hers.

"I'm not talkin' to the grave-diggin' dipshit!" he yells out to her.

"—I'm talkin' to _you!_ "

Her breath catches in her throat for some reason, and she feels her chest tighten. She turns away from her captor, facing the stone barrier between them.

"...Me?" Her voice is so quiet, but she raises it for him to hear her.

"Yes, you! Listen up!" His words are meant for only her right now, and she stares into the pale stone, as if she can see him through it. "Don't think for _one second_ that you can die of your own will!"

He's banging away at the wall now. Ripping apart the bricks, slashing it apart with what sounds like the pickaxe from before, forcing his way through- to get to her.

"There's plenty of people in this building who'd love to kill you!" His words are punctuated with every strike of his tool, his grunts and exertion accenting what he's trying desperately to tell her.

"—But _I'll_ have the honor!"

Isaac's words are ringing in her ears, louder than everything else, replaying- and in the next moment, she freezes entirely at his earth-shattering promise.

"... _I swear to God!_ "

Her heartbeat jumps immediately, triggered by his vow. For this moment alone, it's the two of them, his words sealing their mutual promise.

 _To God… He…_

 _He swears to God… to kill me…!_

"...To God..?" she says, her voice dropping nearly to a whisper as she processes it.

"Uh-huh!" His affirmation reverberates to her. "So-"

"—Make sure nobody else gets to you first!"

Her eyes are wide. She hadn't ever expected he would truly make such a serious promise to her- but she'll stand by this mutual vow they've made. Because a vow made with God is unbreakable- and she will see it through to the very end.

Something like the ghost of a smile passes over her lips, and then she nods even though he can't see. Pressing her palm to the wall, she seals the oath herself.

"...Okay," she says determinedly.

"Rachel?" Behind her, the gravedigger is outraged listening to their exchange, his green eye flashing.

"...Hit that wall as hard as you can!" Ray calls out to Isaac, making her voice strong enough to be heard clearly, and the boy gasps. He reaches out, just as light begins to peek out through the wall.

"Ray…"

An explosion of rock and illumination. She moves out of the way as the tool comes tumbling through the wreckage, and light pours through to make everything in the room visible. The hooded reaper steps in, instantly seeing her and quirking a grin in greeting as he finishes the sentence.

"...chel!"

The two meet gazes, and she feels some kind of overwhelming sense of relief, though she can't put her finger on why.

Isaac twists his head to glare around the room, searching. "Where'd that fuckin' punk go?"

She follows his observance, realizing that he is no longer in the room with her. Ray had barely noticed his absence once her savior had entered the scene.

"...Why, Rachel…?"

His voice, however, lingers in the air, calling out to her mournfully.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to kill you?"

"Of course it's wrong, you fuckin' moron!" Isaac is the one who answers before she can, spitting the words.

"My, you're so vicious. Rachel… do you want him to kill you? He'll definitely bungle it up- why not let me instead? I'll do a pristine job!"

Zack brandishes his scythe angrily, ready to slice the gravedigger to ribbons. "Shut the fuck up! Show yourself so I can tear you apart!"

There's a beat of silence, and then he answer- the once loving, gentle tone is now replaced with sharpness akin to a sword's edge, and as cold as the temperature on the floor.

"...Rachel. You are _mine_ to kill. Can you… wait for me until then?"

His chuckling is manic this time as it fills the air- and outside somewhere, the sound of something clanging open echoes out.

Once they're sure he's gone, the reaper grumbles low curses to himself and loosens his stance for the time being. He glances over at her, and then faces away.

"C'mon. Let's get the fuck outta here."

She doesn't hesitate in following him back out the way he'd burst through. The two of them, now in the brightness, take a moment to think.

Ray still can't wrap her head around what had happened, but her heart has now set. His oath to her— no… _their_ oath, that he would kill her, is now unshatterable.

"Damn. That bastard bolted on me!" He runs his gauzy fingers through his hair and then turns on her, venting his frustration out on her. "You're just as much a spineless wimp yourself! You'll be dead before I even have a chance to kill you!"

Ray blinks, then nods in agreement. "...Yeah."

He raises a brow. "...Huuuh? Like I said before, if you're gonna die, at least make yourself useful first!"

She brushes off her clothes and responds. "...If I do, then you'll kill me, right?"

"That's what I've been sayin'," he states.

She ponders her words a moment. She can't stop mulling over what happened before, and she finds herself asking about it.

"...What you said earlier…"

Feeling her intensity well up, she takes a step toward him, surprising him. She's filled with something forceful for a few moments.

"God- you said ' _God_ '... Yeah, 'to God'. You said that you 'swear to God'…!'" She moves forward again, and Isaac backs up with confusion at her sudden change in emotion.

"Is what you said true?" she asks him, her voice growing a little quieter. "You'll swear to God for me? You… swear to God you'll kill me?"

He gapes open-mouthed at her for a second, unable to think of a response at first, and the he bluntly answers.

"For God's sake- _yes!_ Now quit pesterin' me!"

He repeats her actions, taking one meaningful step toward and making her back up, and then another, punctuating his next words.

"I. _Hate._ Liars!"

She studies him for a moment, but she can sense no untruthfulness or lies from him.

 _Then… that means, that I can trust him. Our promise… he'll fulfill it, just like he says._

"I see, gotcha." she says, dropping her serious attitude. She stares into his bi-colored eyes with certainty. "I'll do everything I can… to make myself useful to you."

Zack frowns for a moment, but he seems a little pleased by her words. He turns from her. "...Then we're good. So… what's the plan now?"

"I think I heard the sound of a door open earlier," she says, recalling a few minutes before. "I think it might the room below here. That kid is waiting… or so he said."

Her companion lets loose a string of colorful swears, and shoves his open hand in his pocket. She can understand the expression on his face- the dormant want to kill him.

She's about to go on when she notices that he's glancing over at her strangely. "...What?"

Realizing he's been seen, he clears his throat and shrugs his shoulder. "...Nothin'. Just…"

She blinks at him. "...Just?"

"...Did that punk do anythin' to you?" he asks. "I mean- did he hurt you?"

 _...Zack?_

"...No," she says, and he straightens up.

"Good. That's all I wanted to know." He walks off without her, not bothering to continue the topic.

 _Isaac… i wonder if you might've been worried? No… I doubt it._ But, she still feels a little bit warmer inside.

She catches up, and the two make their way to the now opened gate. It's just as she said, thankfully- albeit being most likely due to Eddie's desire for them to find him.

 _Is he going to try something when we find him?_

They're lead into a long hall that curves off to the right. As they walk through, she sees a metal plate on the barren wall that reads 'The Power Room'.

"Funny enough, it still smells like dirt here," she says with interest, and Zack instantly balks. He walks forward, disdainful.

"What in the hell? _More_ graves?" He turns his head to glance back at her sternly. "Hey, don't get any ideas about goin' into any more holes!"

"I said I wouldn't kill myself," she frowns.

He faces away, and she hears a light chuckle. "...Heh. I suppose you did. Anyway, I've got no intention of stickin' around this dirt dump! Let's get the hell outta here!"

He practically runs off without her again, and she calls out to him, to no avail.

 _...Don't leave me behind._

She manages to close the distance, finding him stopped in front of her. When she nears, he turns around to face her.

"...Hey, what's your name again?" he asks her.

 _Huh?_ She thought she'd spoken it to him before but perhaps he's forgotten. "...Rachel Gardner."

"Oh," he says, nonchalant. "I'm takin' you along for my own personal gain. But man it's a pain in the ass havin' you around.

"...Right, Ray?"

 _Ray…_

The use of her nickname is somehow important to her, the way he says it. His goofy smile accompanying it proves only that what she thought earlier is most definitely true; that they're now bonded like this.

Before she can think of a response, they both hear the boy from before calling out to them.

"...Hello, we meet again!" He's situated on the stairs in front of them, waving a gloved hand in a friendly manner.

Zack growls immediately. "Outta my way, fuckin' brat!"

" _What_ makes you think I gotta do as you say?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders at the riled reaper. Then he turns to address her, staring at her. "Hey, Rachel… are you sure you don't want me to do it? Do you even know anything about who this guy is? He has _no_ passion for grace, and a slovenly past!"

She's quiet, but she's sure as she answers. "...I read about his past in a document earlier."

He raises his hands, shovel leaned against his hip. "Then what's the problem? Why choose _him_ over me?! I can kill you too, you know!"

She comes around to stand at Isaac's side, shaking her head.

"...He swore to God that he'd kill me. That alone is everything to me."

The pumpkin-headed boy becomes even angrier than before, his words raining down with malice. "Who's this high and mighty God? That's crazy! This so-called 'God' of yours never told me any of this! No such freedom exists in this place. The only freedom we're given is for our actions on our own floors… and the right to kill."

Just listening to him grants her steel to her resolve. She shakes her head again, firm in her decision now.

"...You are not the one who will kill me."

Beside her, Zack whoops with glee, happy to rub the boy's face in her choice. "You hear that? How you like that, you fuckin' brat?"

Their enemy falls silent, his eyes darkening to deep jade. He takes hold of his shovel, tsking low.

"Oh, how dreadful. I just wanted to bury you, preserving your beauty. Don't you know?" His tone become mirthful, grinning through the mask. "Graves are dark, cool, and comfy!"

He darkens further, gripping the tool and staring her down.

"At the very least, let me take you there."

He suddenly lunges for her, shovel wielded high above his head. She starts to cover her face, but Zack is already moving, standing in front of her to fend off the blow with ease. The boy howls with fury, backing up.

"Noooo! You worthless hellion!"

"Shut up!" Zack's voice booms through the room. "It's not like you're any different from me. Just another murderer!"

"Speak for yourself! For all your physical strength…" the boy's eyes gleam. "You still haven't been able to catch anyone with that empty head of yours! Unable to kill anyone, you're just a useless, angry mess."

The reaper laughs in response.

"Ha! That's rich, comin' from you. You're the one who's desperate. Just a frustrated little dipshit who couldn't even kill a fly is all you are. Psshht- gimme a fuckin' break."

His words seem to strike a sensitive nerve for the boy. He hisses through his teeth, his outrage growing with every passing second.

"...Shut your trap, you idiot. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist. I'm after Rachel, not you."

He leaps back, nearly flying with the action, and he pinpoints Ray with his sharp gaze.

"Rachel..." His voice has fallen to frozen temperatures, merciless and unrelenting. "...I'll seal you eternally in a lovely casket of stone!"

The lights above them start fading out, and then they're immersed in the pitch black. She can hear Zack's voice nearby.

"Arrrghh! Dammit, not again!"

She's stepping back a little, hearing the sound of a weapon. The boy's laughter is all around them, and the sound of her companion striking at something with his scythe is loud in her ears.

"...Where the hell are you?!"

"You're like a turd that won't flush," the killer taunts from the dark. "I must kill Rachel!"

Another angry growl and the metallic sound of a blade crashing against stone.

"Aack, watch out! This game has no continues!" More laughter echoing from all around. She can't see anything like this, even as her vision adjusts to the darkness.

"Rachel!" Suddenly she's jarred by Zack's voice, aimed toward her. "Go on ahead without me! You said something about a power room, right? It should be somewhere around here! Go turn on the power!"

For a second, she almost starts to say she won't do it- but she knows this is important, and it might be the one way to stop the murderous boy.

"...Okay!" she says to him.

She starts to move forward, using her memory to help her find her way and then remembering the flashlight. As she starts running ahead to the doorway she'd seen and fumbling with the flashlight, she hears the gravedigger's voice near her ear, whispering.

"... _Wait, Rachel."_

 _He's too close!_

She sprints forward, putting all the power into her legs. The flashlight turns on just in time as she enters the next room, but it flickers uncertainly in her hand. She finds herself surrounded by stone walls, with branching paths in front of her in several directions.

 _Is this a maze?_

She knows she doesn't have much time to waste thinking- she can hear his laughter behind her, looming closer. She has to just trust her instincts.

She starts running, her footsteps loud in her ears and the room. She can't look back, turning corner, after corner. She slams straight into a large tombstone, almost losing her footing and falling into the monstrous hole underneath it.

 _This isn't the right way-!_

"Rachel, _where_ _arrreeeee yooooouuuu_?"

His voice is haunting her, sounding far too close for comfort. She picks herself up off the ground, feeling slight stinging in her knees from the tumble she'd taken. Ray takes off again, back the way she came and around the corner, hoping and praying she's finding the right direction.

She can hear him coming after her. If she loses even one more second…!

Ray flips another corner, and trips up a flight of stairs she hadn't even realized were there. Her flashlight is all but useless, fading in and out most likely thanks to her chaser.

 _Almost- Almost there-!_

Reaching the top of the stairs, the sight of a small, glowing green light catches her eye. She moves forward without hesitation, flailing a hand out and slamming it over the button there.

Bright, blinding light floods the room. She cringes, waiting for any sign of the boy behind her ready to kill her. When nothing comes, she slowly turns around.

The layout of the maze is clearly visible from her perch above, and she can see the places she slipped and got lost in. Standing amidst it all, right next to the tombstone she'd nearly fallen into, he stares up at her.

"Why, Rachel…? Why?" He says gently. "I even made a grave for you and everything…!"

She has nothing to say to that- but she spots Zack coming into the room, now able to completely see and understand his surroundings enough to target the boy. His words are cutting and gleeful.

"Can't you take a hint? She's _dumped_ your ass!" Punctuating his words, he hops over one of the stone barricades, advancing on the gravedigger like a predator stalking their prey. He flips around, taking a step back at seeing the ruthless killer coming up on him.

"Damn…!"

"Ray doesn't want your petty grave!" Zack taunts maliciously, clearly enjoying watching the boy squirm.

"...Get away! Traitor! Grave desecrator! Fiend!" The boy calls him every name he can think of, but she can see that he's realizing the futility of it. He spins around, pleading with his eyes and reaching out to her desperately.

"Rachel! Lose this fiendish ruffian and hop into my grave! Whaddya say?"

"Hey," Zack says, almost calmly as he stands over the boy, scythe poised to strike. "If you're so obsessed with graves, how's about I bury _you_ first?"

Without a shred of hesitation, the noiret cuts into the gravedigger. His shriek fills the room with its intensity, but the slashes of the bloodied scythe come again, and again, the crimson liquid spilling out onto the ground and onto his killer's hoodie haphazardly. The cries of pain die down soon enough, and his body gets kicked down into the messily dug hole in front of the large tombstone by a none-too-gentle Zack. She's left standing at the power generator, watching the entire thing unfold. It doesn't make her feel much of anything, only a strangely morbid curiosity.

"I got the perfect one picked out for you," he says, grinning ear to ear before tapping his chin, as if in deep thought. "Oh, I almost forgot! I'll seal it up tight- just like you said!"

With a mighty heave, Isaac grips the top of the tombstone in both hands, and yanks it down over the hole. With a creaky groan, the heavy stone wobbles, and then falls flat-faced against the hole, preventing the boy from getting out even if he were still alive. Wiping his hands together like he'd just finished a good day's work, he turns around and looks up at her observing from above.

"...And that's that," he says with pride.

Knowing it's now safe to come down, Ray makes her way back around the maze and joins his side, overlooking the new grave. When she comes by, he seems far-too-pleased with himself.

"Hey, not bad for a punk kid!" he tells her, surprising her with the praise. "The dipshit's six feet under- just like he wanted! Fuckin' smartass grave-diggin bastard!"

She finds that he seems a little too exuberant in the boy's death, like he'd held some kind of personal vendetta against him for something, but she doesn't bother to ask about it. It doesn't matter now, after all. Seeing him act so happy to have finished killing seems almost… endearing, somehow.

"...Huh," he says, drawing her attention. "Something's on the back of this grave."

Following where's he's looking, she blinks. A strange, almost laughably obvious switch sits at the base of the gravestone. In a place where only he'd know, and yet so clear to anyone looking, this must be the work of the now-deceased gravedigger.

 _The switch says… 'elevator gate'._

She relays as much to Zack, which immediately prompts him to say "Ooh! Push it!" So she follows his instruction, and the click of the elevator doors activating resounds from above their heads.

"Now we should be able to go up," she comments, and he grins widens.

"Nice. Let's go."

Without taking another glance back at the grave, the two of them make their way around the maze one last time and up onto the higher platform, heading to the elevator. Zack stretches his arms out, draping his scythe along his shoulders lazily.

"At last," he says with relief, "I can say goodbye to this dirt-reeking dump."

She has to says, she agrees. It's felt like forever since they started doing this- or even since they arrived here. Yet, this is only floor B4… which means even more trials stand ahead of them.

"This is B4," she says aloud to him, "so there's probably still more floors above."

He groans. "When will it end…?"

They step through the now open doors, and they fit into the elevator together, turning around. Zack leans against the back wall, and she presses the button for it to rise.

As they settle, taking this momentary reprieve, she feels her body ache all over from the running and traveling around. A question rolls through her thoughts, pressing at her, and she can't help risking glances at her companion.

"Umm…"

Her voice makes him look in her direction, raising a brow, and she pushes the rest of the words out.

"Did I make myself useful to you, sir?" she inquires carefully.

His mouth twists for a moment, displeased by something, and he glances away.

"Er…" He clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. "...Can you quit callin' me 'sir'? Makes me edgy."

She blinks at him. Usually sir would be taken as a symbol of respect, but…

"...How about 'Isaac'?" she tries, but he shakes his head, blowing air noisily through his lips.

"...Zack," he corrects, making himself comfortable once more and crossing his arms. "Call me Zack."

 _Zack… so I can use his nickname, too? Or does he prefer this instead of his own real name?_

She decides to take it as it is, for now. Besides… she enjoys calling him Zack far more than the formal Isaac, anyhow.

"Okay," she amends, "Was I of any use to you, Zack?"

She's on edge of her own waiting for his answer. He seems to ponder his response, and then he grins at her.

"Just a tiny bit."

Ray stares at him a moment, registering his words. That little bit of praise, and that smile… she feels a little bit of warmth again, for just a moment, and a soft smile settles over her lips fleetingly.

"Oh…" she says, with a tinge of happiness.

She realizes then that he's staring at her with the oddest expression on his face- like he's shocked, or fascinated by something. Her brow quirks questioningly in his direction, and he hurriedly turns away, trying to mask his features.

The elevator underneath them comes to a noisy, creaky stop then, and the door before them open. He moves forward then, quick to ignore the strangeness of the moment.

"...Let's get goin'."

She gazes at his back for a short, quick second, memorizing the pattern of his hoodie and the rugged way his bandages encase his entire form- and she nods to herself.

"...Okay."

She walks out with him, matching his stride- and she feels comforted, but without knowing why. Only that, because of him, she feels a little bit more warm.

 _That oath that we made… I'll see it through from here on out, Zack._

* * *

A/N: Unbeta'd.

First and foremost: I'm so sorry for the longest heckin' chapter, guys. I had fully not intended to make it this long, but it... things got out of hand. _Really_ out of hand. I also didn't want to wait this long to update, but my mom was sick and I had to take care of her for a few days. I literally wrote 8k words of this fic today, out of pure concentration. I'm dead. But uh... if you made it through this whole, long drag— _please_ tell me what you thought. Thank you for reading this.

This brings me to my second point of interest: **Please read this. I'm asking you all to please not review specifically about the anime and not the story itself.** I really love reviews, but I don't love _pointless_ reviews. I want it to be centered on the story. Yes, I know about the anime, I'm super hyped for it and I've been waiting like 6 months for it, even before I had played the game. Thanks for telling me, but definitely try to stay on topic m'guys- nothing's more disappointing than a review that has nothing to do with this thing I've been putting my heart and soul into, okay? ^^

 **OKAY!** Moving on from that.

Thank you all for even reading this, or following, or- anything. It means the world to me. I'll try to keep updating fairly frequently. (By frequently, I mean maybe once a week. I'm kinda surprised I've been so frequent with updates anyways, but this... this novelization is important to me. Hope I'm doing it right!)

Alright, I'll let y'all go, this thing's already too long. Thanks for being around, and see you in next chapter!

~disclaimer~ I own only a few of the dark and a love of Zackray, nothing more.


	8. Deadly Playground

Surrounded by computer screens illuminating an otherwise dark room, someone watches a single camera with fascination, slender fingers circled under their chin and a coy smile resting on their lips.

 _It seems I have a few new sinners to take care of._

Their eyes light specifically on the two new entrants of the floor, a tall boy with a hoodie and a young girl. Their green eyes flash, mind already turning with possibility and excitement. They've been waiting what seems like forever for the sacrifices to reach this floor. Their hand traces the outline of the boy's image.

Now, it's her turn to do what she does best.

 **.x.X.x.**

"This is where we get off, apparently."

Walking out of the elevator onto the floor, it's another sharp contrast to the floor below. Ray's cerulean eyes scan over the area, inspecting the new surroundings.

The stones woven together under their feet are a pristine white, matching the walls around them, fitted together with a long strip of red and black that stretches down the room. The air is no longer frigid, but lukewarm and stagnant. Even more cameras than the last few floors are in sight from every angle, and a large iron gate stands in their way, separating them from the staircase on the far end.

The elevator doors noisily clatter to a shut behind them, and Zack wanders away from her, peering at the large crimson painted floor sign.

"...B3," he says, distasteful. He turns around with a frown. "What a stingy elevator! Just take us all the way up instead of droppin' us off at each fuckin' floor… Here we go again! _Another_ elevator hunt!"

Ray watches his irritated outburst for a moment, then nods her head. "...Yeah."

Another floor, another set of trials and tribulations. At this point, she's almost becoming used to the sense of danger that comes from every inch of this building. Nowhere is safe for them, but… well, that must've been their goal from the start.

He looks over to her, slinging his scythe up over his shoulders casually. "Hey, I'm countin' on you. You're the brains of this operation." He cracks a grin. "Make sure we get to the exit!"

She blinks, and then presses her small fingers to her chin, in thought. _Yes… I have to figure out a way to help Zack safely make it out of here, after all. I'll fulfill my end of the oath._

"Okay," she replies firmly. "I'll do everything in my power to make myself useful to you."

She starts to move toward the gate, but pauses, adding on to the statement.

"...Just like you swore to God; once we're out of this place… kill me."

"You... " His face scrunches up, and he clears his throat before answering her. "...You sound like a broken record player. Don't gotta tell me again!"

She eyes him for a moment, but lets it go. Instead, she approaches the gate, examining the steel frame. The gate reaches the ceiling, and when she tugs and pushes against the gate, it doesn't budge. There's no keyhole visible on it, either— another mechanism-powered door, most likely, locked up tight from somewhere else.

He starts pacing back and forth impatiently behind her, and she turns around, already knowing he won't like it when she tells him. The moment his bi-colored eyes fall on her, he stops, narrowing his gaze.

"What?"

She's silent, brows pressed together uncomfortably, and he grows agitated.

"I said _what?_ Unbutton your lips!"

Unfortunately, the more she thinks about it, the more she doubts telling him will help matters. But it's already a little late.

"Even if I told you… I'm not sure you would... understand," she confesses.

Zack's eyes widen a little, and then he growls out an answer with annoyance, causing her to take a cautionary step back toward the gate. "Who knows, but I won't unless you spit it out!"

 _I… suppose he's right._

"...It's not unlocked," she finally says, carefully picking her words. "There's nothing else in this room, so it doesn't bode well for us."

He stares at her for what seems like an hour as he processes what she's saying. His scythe catches the light as he toys with it in his hand.

"If you don't have a clue," he states slowly, "then why the hell would I?"

"I… thought you'd say that." Her voice drops, and he waves a hand flippantly.

"Aren't you skilled at unlocking stuff? Good luck with that."

She starts to counter that statement- as she's only ever been 'good at unlocking stuff' when there's an actual way to do so, when she realizes that arguing about the matter with him isn't going to progress things.

"...For the time being, I'll take another look at the door," she resigns herself, and he just rolls his eyes and starts pacing again, the sound of his anxious footsteps beginning again.

Doing the only thing she can, Ray gives the door another go. Just like before, it proves futile to force it, the action only straining her muscles to no avail. She gazes at it with deep thought, her intelligent brain trying to come up with a plan.

 _I had a feeling it wouldn't open… what're we gonna do?_

Then, like a small sliver of hope, she remembers something. Her eyes drift down to the handbag at her waist, an idea beginning to form.

 _There's something in my handbag… but… it's…_

She toys with the purse by her side. Zack halts his pacing again, his attention drawn by her fiddling.

"...Hey," he calls out.

Her lack of an answer only provokes him, and he comes up behind her, forcing her to look up.

"Hey, it still won't budge?!"

"...Nope," she admits.

His eyes shift to her purse. "You've been eyeballin' your bag for awhile. What's that about?"

 _Oh. I hadn't realized he'd been paying attention…_ Her fingertips anxiously play with the strap of her bag.

"I… thought there'd be something to unlock it."

"Oh?" His curiosity piqued by her lack of detail, and he raises a brow. "So what's inside that bag of yours, anyways?"

She can feel herself tensing up from the question. Reflexively she bites her tongue, but she forces herself to answer before he becomes upset.

"Umm… a needle, some thread…" Her head's starting to hurt a little. "...and…"

"You don't say?" Completely ignoring the way she trails off, he instead leaps at the first sign of helpful information, pointing to her purse. "Can you pick a lock with a needle?"

Ray has to admit, she admires his enthusiasm, but… unfortunately, it's not nearly as simple a task as he makes it sound.

She takes a deep breath. "I have no idea how to pick locks. Besides, this door has no keyhole."

He lets out an exasperated groan. "Well, a lot of good some thread and a needle are gonna do us then, huh?!"

He easily shoves her aside, stepping up to the gate and brandishing the gleaming blade of his scythe. It takes her a moment to realize what he's about to do, but he's quick to give her the answer.

"Outta my way, I'll smash it open!"

 _Smash it open? There's no way that could work. This entire gate is practically unbreakable, his scythe couldn't cut through. He'd only end up breaking his weapon instead._

"The door is reinforced with iron bars," she tries to reason with him, but he silences her with a noisy snort.

"Can it! I won't know unless I try, dammit!"

Letting out something resembling a war cry, he reels back his arms and slashes down against the gate. The weapon clashes hard against the metal, the sound loud and almost painful on her ears. It bounces back in his hand instantly, and he winds back with the impact.

"—Shit, it's hard as a rock!" he exclaims, shaking his hands out in an attempt to alleviate his knockback.

"...Hard as _iron,_ to be precise." she mutters to herself. He catches her words, and wheels on her.

"Why didn't you tell me that?! Now my hands are all numb!"

 _But… I_ _had_ _told you that…_

"...I mentioned iron bars," she frowns.

Without warning, sharp red lights begin flashing through the room. Zack and Ray look up unanimously, the blare of a siren cutting through their argument.

 _What's happening…?_

"Huh? What the fuck?" he says low, already taking tight hold of his weapon.

Then his eyes grow wide at something behind her. She's about to ask him what the problem is, when—

"Hey, _get back!_ "

He grabs hold of her arm in one bandaged hand and yanks her away from the gate violently. She's thrown off balance, nearly tumbling into his chest as he moves them both back quickly.

At the same time, a shower of loud gunshots resounds behind her. Turning to look back at where she had stood just a moment before, she watches as bullets rain down over the stones near the gate, the rock cracking and being filled with holes, some even ricocheting off the metal itself. Zack has her close, his scythe out in front of them to offer a shield to prevent them from being impaled.

The gunshots eventually stop after having littered the entire area from wall to wall in bullets, and the machine gun that had once been hidden withdraws back into it, the stone closing over the weapon as if it had never been there. The sirens and red lights turn off as well, providing a little auditory relief.

"Bullets…" she says, blinking rapidly as she stares at the massacred area. It had all happened so suddenly that she felt even herself trying to get over the shock. It was so abrupt, her heart feels like it's beating faster than before.

"Planning to turn us into swiss cheese, eh…?" Zack hisses with a twisted smirk, multi-colored eyes flickering from side to side.

Overhead, the sounds of a intercom's static filter over them, followed by piercingly loud feminine laughter.

" _Sorry the welcome party took so long! I guess I sort of dozed off watching your idiotic antics. Still, it's a wonder you survived!_ _Especially_ _you, Zack! Bravo to your resourcefulness! Truth be told, I always had faith you'd blossom into such a lovely sinner._ "

Ray's taken aback by the voice. It's hard to distinguish exactly what the woman on the other end sounds like, but her voice is mature, giving off some sort of flirty air as she speaks to them, along with an almost condescending demeanor.

The woman laughs once more, gleeful. " _All this talk about anticipation has my peepers wide awake now!_ "

Zack takes a step forward, his expression a mask of anger. "I don't give a flyin' fuck about your sleeping habits! Shut the hell up and let us through!"

More giggling, the static barely overriding the sound, but there's an edge to it too- something cold and indiscernable.

" _Very well, you've earned it! Yep… you've earned it!_ "

A spotlight from above flashes down on them. It blinds Ray for a moment, and she's quick to try and block it out. Zack glares around, his discomfort obvious. The woman seems unbothered by it, going on to speak in a light, yet merciless tone.

"— _I am the condemner._ _Oh, godless wretches… you shall writhe in agony until forgiven. For that is my devoir!_ "

The spotlight goes out, throwing them both into darkness. Ray stays perfectly still, her reflexes from Eddie's floor kicking in almost immediately, while her companion curses. The sound of something unlocking in front of them is followed by the regular lighting returning. She rubs her eyes, trying to ignore the sting and realizing the gate has been opened for them. Yet, she feels uneasy.

"...Godless wretches…" Ray repeats softly, replaying the woman's words.

 _What did she mean by condemner? And… Godless wretches? But, I…_

"...Bullshit," Zack snarls. He takes a step toward the gate, scythe taut in his hand. "Sayin' whatever the hell she wants. Talkin' like God sent her himself and shit. Why do I gotta be punished, anyway? Oh, and my bullshit-ometer is already pingin' off the scale, so lay off!"

He wheels around to look at her. His expression is dark, but he urges her on. "Hey, Ray. The door's open; let's get a move on."

 _He seems really ticked off._ She just nods. "...Okay."

The silently walk down the steep staircase, entering another hallway at the bottom. This time there's several doorways on either side, and another closed gate at the end of the hall.

They try each door, but every one proves locked, adding to Zack's growing agitation. As they approach the gate, she frowns, trying to move it to no avail.

"...It's closed," she tells him, and his hand fists at his side. He glares up at a nearby camera, eyes fiery.

"Hey! Aren't ya' listenin'?!" he shouts. "Weren't you supposed to let us through?!"

The sounds of crackling static pierce through the air again, and the woman's coy voice filters through in response.

" _What's this? I thought you were just slow-witted, but it turns out you're just impatient. I haven't finished putting on my face. I just rolled out of bed, after all._ "

He just gapes, disbelieving. "...Huh?"

A snicker, then her dismissive tone follows. " _Well, nevermind all that… Sinners should receive their punishment in due order, don't you think? I mean, that way it sets the mood for the whole thing. I'd better get everything set up. You two should get ready too…_ "

Ray can almost discern a smile through the intercom as the woman adds onto the end;

"... _to receive your punishment, that is._ "

There it is again. The word 'punishment' being put to use again. Ray can't help wondering why she continues to say these things.

Punishment… for doing what, exactly?

" _I left the room in question unlocked for you,_ " the woman tells them smugly, and then the signal cuts out, leaving them in the quiet atmosphere. The click of a door echoes nearby, from the door behind them.

Zack stares at the camera for a moment, and Ray can see the wheels trying to turn in his head.

"Which means... _huh_?! What's all that supposed to mean?!" He ruffles his black hair violently, wracking his thoughts.

Ray quietly pipes up. "...Shall we head to the room for the time being?"

He grumbles, but he just waves a hand and throws his scythe over his shoulder, walking to the unlocked door and tossing it open with force. She trails behind, unable to say anything to prevent his irritation so simply following.

They enter a room with a large striped panel in the back. A camera is set up in front of it, and a desk sits behind it littered with what appear to be photos and such. A few benches are lined up orderly on either side.

The intercom buzzes to life again overhead, drawing their attention. " _A bordered background mugshot is what defines a criminal, right? Sooooo…. Take your mugshot for me!_ "

"Huh? Mugshot?" Zack questions.

" _It's a picture of your mug, Isaac,_ " she drawls sweetly. " _Never had yours taken before, huh? How lovely! I'll make a half-hearted promise to post it on my fridge! The same goes for you, Rachel. Show me your photogenic side; oh, and don't forget to take it while holding a placard!_ "

Her voice vanishes again, and Ray frowns in thought.

 _We have to take pictures then, is that it? To pass through the gate. It's simple enough._

"Ugh, this is such _bullshit,_ " Zack exclaims, thumping his scythe against his shoulder impatiently.

 _I can understand he's uncomfortable. The longer we're under this 'master's floor, the more anxious and paranoid he becomes. Especially after the close call earlier._

Ray wanders toward the camera, while he stays close by, his bi-colored eyes examining everything with an air of suspicion. It's an old, somewhat dusty polaroid camera, with a corded button hanging below it to trigger the shutter.

"Are we supposed to take it with this? Does pushing the shutter take a photo?" she inquires, and Zack shrugs his shoulders from nearby flippantly.

"Fuck if I know. I've never taken a photo or had mine taken."

The words are so cold and distant that she raises a brow. He's putting on an aura of boredom, but his body language is saying something otherwise. He almost seems uncomfortable with the very idea.

 _Has he really never taken a picture before?_

"...Okay," she says slowly, tilting her head. "Then should I take mine first?"

"Huh?" His face scrunches up with disgust. "...So why in the fuck do _I_ gotta get my photo taken for?"

She blinks at him. "...So we can keep going." A pause, then she adds, "...Not a fan of photos?"

He opens his mouth to retort, but he seems to choke on what he was going to say. Instead he throws up his hand, growling out an answer. "Ah, shit! _Fine!_ " he huffs.

She can clearly tell he wants nothing to do with the endeavor, but he knows that it's the only way to move on. Ray almost feels bad he's forcing himself into it, but… this is the only choice they have right now. Even she isn't the fondest of picture taking, her dull memories of the last picture ever taken of her too dim to remember.

Nodding her head, she says, "Okay then. I'll take yours once you're ready, okay?"

He snorts, and she takes that as his answer. She crosses to the open box near the desk, peering inside. A handful of placards with white strings are piled inside, all entirely blank. She picks out a few and places them on the desk, reaching for a pen and starting to write out her name and then his.

"Hey, what do those say?" Zack says, coming up behind her to narrow his eyes at them.

She glances at him, then replies. "...Our names are written on them."

"Really? Our names?"

"Well, it's for a mugshot, so…" she trails off, touching her placard and showing him the white string. "I think we need to put these around our necks and take the photo."

He glares at his for a moment, and then snatches it off the desk, gripping it tightly in his bandaged fingers. She raises a brow.

"...Shall I take yours?" she inquires.

His mouth contorts into a grimace with his disgust showing. "... _Fine._ "

Ray scans him as he drags his feet to the striped background, callously tossing the strap of his placard over his head so that his name hangs over his chest. He refuses to let go of his scythe, the weapon tightly wound between his fingers while his other hand toys with the white board. Ge scowls down at it unhappily, and she feels a little bad for him. She _did_ offer to go first, after all, but he seems to want to get it over with as fast as possible.

"Hey!" he barks at her, drawing her out of her thoughts and tapping his gauzy fingertips testily, shifting from foot to foot. "If you're gonna do it, make it snappy!"

She takes hold of the button for the camera, but his constant fidgeting and movement makes her furrow her brows together.

"...Stay still," she commands.

"Huh? Like I give a shit," he says, jerking his chin up defiantly at her. "Just take it, for cryin' out loud!"

Her expression doesn't change, her lips pursing together. "...It'll come out blurry."

He finally stops squirming for a moment, focusing on her with frustration, his heterochromatic eyes growing small. "For fuck's sake! It's not like this is some passport photo!"

Ray lets out an audible sigh, already resigning herself to his uncooperation. _I suppose I should be glad that he's even willing to do this at all._

"...Fine," she tries one last time, finger poised on the button. "Hold still."

He's about to shoot off another snarky comment when she quickly presses the trigger. A bright flash engulfs him for a moment, and he goes wide-eyed with surprise, whatever he was about to say forgotten. A blank polaroid slides out of the camera, and she withdraws it, quickly setting it aside on the table.

Zack curses to himself, practically ripping off the placard around his neck. Ray places her own over her chest, and switches places with him. As she readies herself against the background, he lifts up the trigger, looking it over with slight skepticism.

He glances her direction, leaning his scythe against his shoulder and pointing a finger at the button.

"Do I press this?"

"Yeah." She brushes off her white jacket and shorts and then absently swipes her bangs out of her eyes as she talks.

"This sucks so hard," he complains audibly. "What do we gotta do this for?"

Stuck watching him from the sidelines, Ray observes him swiveling back to the camera. He grips tight on the trigger, so hard that the camera itself wobbles unsafely next to him.

"...Ah, don't push the button too hard, you'll make the whole camera shake-"

 _Snap._

The sound of the shutter clicking and taking her photo, along with the blinding flash accompanying it, kills the words soon after they've been said. She can already guess that the picture won't be good, but Zack's already thrown aside the trigger with a victorious look on his face, seeming pleased. Something else also echoes out, outside the room- most likely, their task is considered finished.

 _I guess it can't be helped this time._

She walks to him as he rips the fresh polaroid out of the slot. Taking his to compare them, the images are already starting to become visible as the two peer at them with mild curiosity.

"...I knew it," she says, a tad dissatisfied. "It's blurry."

"Good enough," Zack says curtly, tossing her photo into her hands. She glances at it, then places them both in her bag.

"...Yeah. I think I heard a sound out there; now we should be able to move on."

He circles the camera, a smirk on his face. "This is somethin'. Push a button just to take a photo," he says with fascination.

 _That's funny… I thought he hated taking photos a moment ago, but now he seems interested in it._

"Indeed," she answers, and he flashes his grin her direction.

"Huh… This's more fun than I thought. Plus it's easy," he says exuberantly, patting the equipment none-too-gently.

"...That doesn't mean it'll come out good, though," she reminds him, and his expression sours a little.

"Huh? Whaddaya doin' killin' my buzz for?" he demands, placing his hand on his hip. "You're the one who said push the button to take it!"

Ray starts to think of a response to that, but she quiets down. He's right after all, in a way, but… Well. She won't rain on his private parade, choosing to let him enjoy the experience.

The two of them exit the room, and her sight catches on the gate. What had once barred their path is now wide open, the entrance within darkened. She exchanges a look with Zack, and she notices how taut his jaw is, the tenseness throughout his slender frame.

They walk forward through the gate cautiously, entering a dim hallway. The light from the past one illuminates only a little of the one before them, enough to make out the white tile floor and a collection of hand-drawn doodles on the stucco.

 _A series of drawings are scribbled on the wall,_ Ray notes, gently closing the distance between them and examining it curiously.

Zack's only a step behind her, but as he gets a good glimpse of it, he covers his mouth in repulsion.

"B-Blargh…!" he chokes, visibly disgusted. He leans in toward the first part of the set, what appears to be a stick figure sitting on a chair, and then reels away. "What a piss-poor excuse for a drawing— it's like someone smeared shit on the wall!"

Ray examines the rest of them while he backs off, noting the oddness of it. Ithey appear to have been marked into the wall long ago, with a permanent marker. While the artistic design isn't exactly the finest, it seems they each have specific meaning. The first is the person in a chair; the second is a sickly face in green, the third a body falling on spikes. The fourth, the most questionable, happens to be the image of a syringe.

 _Are these symbolic somehow?_ She ponders their existence, feeling that their placement here isn't just for show. _Maybe this is… warnings?_

The final drawing is in magenta lipstick instead of marker this time, and depicts what seems to be a smiling woman blowing hearts. Ray can only assume that it's supposed to be homage to the master of the floor, the woman over the intercom system.

Starting toward the end of the hall, the blonde can make out some sort of gate laid directly before them, with a branching hallway off to their left. Inside the gateway, the decor changes drastically- pea green walls and metal floor. Just barely visible within is a bloodred word written on the wall- _welcome._

As if on cue, the intercom system kicks to life above. " _Did you by chance catch the wall artwork?_ " she asks in a syrupy tone. " _I've got such wonderful punishments in store for you! Isn't that lovely?_ "

Zack snorts in answer, approaching the gate with scythe swinging in his hand. "With drawing skills like that, the only thing 'lovely' will be when they're erased!"

The woman audibly gasps through the transmission. " _How cruel! I put my heart and soul into them!_ "

He rolls his eyes, while she continues on, eager to change the subject.

" _But, enough about that… More importantly, I'm giving each of you a bit of a choice!_ "

"Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

" _Didn't you know that condemnation comes in a variety of forms?_ " she chirps, laughing happily. " _How does eternal imprisonment strike you? There, you can leisurely spend your days— productively thinking over your sins!_ "

 _Eternal imprisonment?_ Already, Ray can see Zack turning up his nose at the thought, taking his weapon in both hands and weighing it while he listens to the woman drawl on. _If we're imprisoned, he won't be able to escape…_

" _Such tormenting imprisonment awaits you above… however,_ " the transmission flickers a bit as she pauses for emphasis, drawing out her words, " _beyond the iron bars before you awaits a lovely new life- rotting away in eternal imprisonment! So… whaddaya say?_ "

Her laughter rings out loudly in Ray's ears, which is then cut through by her companion's booming voice as he yells out his response.

Waving his scythe in outrage, he shouts, "Who the fuck in their right mind would wanna do somethin' like that?!"

She, too, was also wondering the same thing. A life imprisoned would never be close enough to death for her, and she wouldn't be able to keep her promise to Zack if she chose that.

" _Too bad…_ " the voice says cheekily. " _All I wanted was to keep you for the rest of your lives… The offer still stands if you change your mind!_ "

Her giggling punctuates the end of the transference, and Zack grips his hands tightly around his scythe with irritation. He glares up toward the ceiling, as if searching for her cameras.

"What? You think i'm gonna just sign my life over like some dumbass?" he growls out.

Ray shifts behind him, toying with a lock of her blonde hair. "...Eternal… imprisonment. Death would not be swift, I take it?"

He pivots around on her, and she catches his wary gaze as he shuts her down quickly.

"Hey, don't even give this bitch the time of day! Act like she doesn't exist! Let's keep goin'."

His tone is so adamant that it leaves no room for argument. She simply nods, and he takes it as her compliance. He lets out a low breath and mumbles something to himself, then waves a hand at her, gesturing toward the side hall.

Approaching the thick, metal door at the other side, Ray can feel her internal sense of danger kicking in. The prickle of foreboding tickles at the back of her neck, warning her of what's ahead, and she can feel the air changing as they near it.

"...Is this the first punishment room?" she asks.

"Even if it is, we've got no choice but to keep goin'," Zack says firmly, his bandaged face showing signs of fire and determination. He grabs the handle and tosses it open, to reveal another hall much like the one before.

As they step through and it swings shut behind them, they barely move a few inches before the click of the lock behind them catches their attention.

"The door's been locked behind us," she frowns.

"Huh? Does _everyone_ around here have some sort of sick door-locking fetish or somethin'?" he whines edgily. " _C'mon_!"

Ray's eyes trail over the walls, spotting a camera turned their direction, a little red light blinking faintly on its side. Her lips thin with thought.

 _...She's watching us right now, isn't she?_

The idea of someone so blatantly watching their every move makes her a bit uncomfortable. Can someone really take that much enjoyment out of observing other people's pain and suffering?

Realizing that Zack is already heading down the hallway without her now, grumbling to himself, she puts aside the inquiries about the master of the floor for the moment and chases after him.

They find themselves inside a wide room, and Ray's given pause by the surroundings. Laid out in front of them are four short rows of chairs facing away, two on either side, each with what looks like a person sitting in them. A narrow hall separated by a metal barred wall is off to the right, and directly across the room is a small gated area up a tiny staircase, with a torturous-seeming chair on the platform waiting there hooked up to some odd and disturbing machines. A few cabinets are against the walls, shining metal and clean.

"...There's so many chairs," she says aloud, her icy gaze floating over the rows. _What's sitting in these chairs? People...? Dolls...? And… that chair in the center…_

"Huh? Yet another place that doesn't make freakin' sense!" Zack hisses through his teeth, moving forward. He brushes by her and walks in between the rows, scythe swinging at his hip as he eyes the place.

"Ah… wait," Ray starts to say, realizing he's heading dangerously close to the strangely put together chair. Even from here, she can tell that it's dangerous. No… more so than that. It's clearly an electric chair.

He does pause for a moment, taking his time to inspect their whereabouts while she heads over. Her eyes slide down over the 'people' sitting in the rows of chairs, and it becomes glaringly obvious that they're not anything close to human. The occupants of the chairs are solid black dolls, or so they appear, reminding her of animatronics. They've no facial features, their outer skin perhaps a thick leather. They're settled prim and properly in their seats, almost like they've been built into the chairs themselves. Out of curiosity she touches the limp arm of one, and her fingers sink into it at first and then are stopped by something ramrod hard underneath.

 _What are these for? And who would want a full crowd of dolls like this? Robot-like dolls made of metal and plastic… What for?_

"So they're all dolls, huh?" Zack inquires, anxiously toying with his weapon and watching her.

"So it seems," she answers, glancing at him.

He scowls and taps his foot. She can she the obvious disgust on his face- he must be creeped out by the faceless puppets. "...At any rate, get thinkin' about how to get through here."

Ray nods. "Okay. Just to be safe, you should take a look around too."

"Will do."

They split off in different directions. She can't help but notice that unlike last time, he didn't put up much of a fight at all about helping her like he had on the floor below.

 _He must be eager to get out of here. Or, maybe he's not as distrustful of me…?_

Either way, she's going to count it as a blessing from God and be thankful that he's willing to help.

She glances up at the ominous chair nearby. This close she can see that it's wooden, strapped with cords all over and even a restraining device. Now that she can get a good look at it, she can also smell it too- the scent of something burnt to a crisp. That itself confirms her previous belief. This is no ordinary chair, and is probably still dangerous… even if the devices connected to it right now don't seem to be on.

She aims her search over the large cabinets around the room. The first few she tries, there's nothing or useless junk in them. The only thing she does find that might be of value is a thick, somewhat clean rag, which she promptly stuffs into her purse.

Not finding much else to make note of and with no clues on how to proceed from here, Ray decides to go check up on her companion. She finds him pondering the barred wall far off to the right of the room, his teeth gritted together as he kicks it with annoyance.

"Find anything worth mentioning?" she asks him, and he turns to her.

"There's a door on the other side," he responds with a frown. "But a wall's blockin' the way."

Normally he wouldn't think twice about tearing into it with his scythe, so his lack of violence is a bit of a surprise. Ray blinks at him. "...And you didn't smash it because…?"

He gapes at her, before becoming offended by her obvious disbelief. "Huh? Listen, punk! This wall's made of iron, and I _can't_ smash it!"

 _Ah, right._ He's right about that. "...Oh…"

He throws out a hand emphatically at her realization, annoyed by the look on her face. "Aren't you the one who said that iron can't be destroyed?!"

She nods. "...Sorry."

"Gah…" He runs his fingers through his messy black hair again, his scythe resting on his shoulder and lightly bumping against the metal wall. His gaze scopes out the area around them, and his mouth twists into a grimace.

"...What in the hell are a bunch of dolls doin' sittin' in chairs…?" he asks.

She glances back. The question has stumped her too, since the moment they arrived. "I'm not sure…"

"Plus they're ugly as hell," he comments with disdain, and she raises a brow.

"...They are?"

He looks down at her with confusion. "...Man, you got some really messed up taste."

 _I do?_ It's true she didn't find the dolls particularly 'ugly', as he put it. After all, they're inanimate objects, and whatever purpose they're here for must have nothing to do with how they look. Though, they are somewhat unsettling, and their unknown reason for existing is prodding at her subconscious, like she should be wary of them.

"None of these floors make any sort of fuckin' sense," Zack grouses.

"What do you mean?" she quizzes him, not understanding.

"Nothin' but messed up traps every which way you go. Fucks with me," he clarifies.

Ray tilts her head, recalling his floor. "I'm… pretty sure that the area where you were… just had a locked door, no?"

He stills for a moment, before a light of recognition flashes over his face. "...Ah, that's right."

 _That was your floor, but you didn't remember…?_ She thinks dryly.

"Quite different from here, huh?" she muses. "Why do you think that is?"

"Beats me. I was just hangin' out where I was told to be," he answers with a short shrug. "Even that damned locked door was a pain in the ass. They should just let me chase and kill."

 _So, does that mean that Zack didn't actually care for the floor he was on? Staying there just for the freedom of killing whomever he wanted… I suppose that makes sense of a serial killer._

"What's that bitch's problem, anyway?" he grumbles, tapping his scythe against the iron wall behind him. "Lockin' doors and chattin' us up when she feels like it."

Ray voices her concern, toying with her purse. "...I think she's watching our every move through the security cameras."

Zack looks genuinely flabbergasted by her words, tensing up. "...Eh? I hope you're joking! That gives me the creeps!" His eyes shift from side to side, already feeling paranoid.

A tiny question was itching to be asked, and she decides now's as good a time as any. Despite being a master of his own floor, did he ever see the others? "...Have you not seen her?"

"How could I? It's not like I could magically connect to her through the screen or somethin'," he waves aside the question as if it were pointless to begin with. "Besides, people watchin' is a total snore. It's not my bag."

 _I suppose he doesn't really look like the people watching type,_ she notes. She herself never minded watching other people. In fact, she enjoyed it sometimes, catching glimpses of normal everyday life. Life that seemed so happy to so many, and yet...

"Hey," he says, waving a hand in front of her face, catching her attention. "If you got time to chat with me, then you got time to find the way outta here. Get a move on! Stayin' in the same place always tires me out."

"You could always take it easy in one of the many chairs here," she suggests, and he scoffs at her.

"And give these doll fucks some sort of demented lap dance?! No freakin' way."

The mental image of such a ridiculous situation nearly brings a smile to her lips. She peers over his shoulder at the metal wall, studying it for a moment. It's just as he said- not able to be broken by his scythe. Could it be mechanism activated, like the rest?

He follows her inquisitive gaze. "Tch. Even if the bars aren't breakable, smashin' anythin' and everythin' in sight gets the job done quick, right?"

Ah. There it is- his aggressive nature checking back in. She sighs softly. "There you go again…"

"Oh, quit your bitchin'," he scolds her. "If you ever need me to smash anythin', you know where to find me."

His offer is amazingly helpful coming from him, if a little awkward. She glances away, playing with her long blonde hair. "...If I ever need anything smashed, then I'll uh... let you know."

He waves her away to keep looking, and she wanders off toward the puppets in the room. She does have to admit they're eerie, as even without facial features they feel like they're watching over the two of them. There's nothing else around here that might hide the key to their escape, so the one place to check would be the dolls.

She checks underneath, on top of, and around a few of the lifeless objects, but they show no sign of budging nor activating. Each doll is turned to stare at the chair at the forefront of the room, and they barely shift when she tries to adjust them.

 _This room looks like it might be hiding something, but everything seems to be fixated. All the dolls appear to be motionless, too. Maybe I'll let Zack know; he's not gonna be happy, but he'll get over it though…_

"You find somethin'?" he calls to her as she nears, and she tries to think of how to bring up the subject gently.

"...Uh…" she begins.

"Uh? Did you even _look?_ " he demands, and she finds herself tripping over her words a little.

"Err… umm…" _So much for trying to ease it to him._

He takes her lack of response as an answer, his expression darkening. "So no clue about a way out, huh?"

"...Yeah, about that…" she trails off, looking at him a bit sheepishly. At this moment, she feels useless— without having a plan or a solution, she's capable of nothing.

"... _Damn!_ "

He shoves past her angrily, easily knocking her out of his way and stomping away, toward the electric chair and seeming almost panicked to find something useful. She frowns to herself.

 _He must be upset that I couldn't find anything at all._

"Hey! Are you sure there's nothin?!" he demands, not even looking her way as he examines the room from top to bottom, and she moves toward him.

"...Not _sure,_ " she clarifies gently. "But what I do know is that I've yet to find any kind of clue."

"Quit messin' with me!" he barks at her, flipping to face her. "If there's nothin' here, then how's about I start smashin' everythin'?! Wouldn't that be faster?"

Compared to his hotheaded, she takes the calmer approach. "...There's no evidence suggesting so," she objects.

"Huh? No evidence? There's no evidence to say I _can't_ smash it all!" he counters, only furthering her exasperation.

"...Mind holding that thought for a bit?" she requests.

Flames light in his eyes, and he lets out a throaty growl of discontent. "...Oh man, I'm pissed!" he exclaims with anger, wheeling opposite of her and starting up the steps toward the electric chair.

 _...Wait. Is he…?_ Too late, before she can muster words, he's plopped himself down in the chair, sprawling out into it and heaving a long heated exhale.

"No way forward and no way back— man, this shit is so fucking tiring!" Zack gripes audibly, rubbing his forehead with one hand and laying his scythe down over his lap.

"...Hey, I wouldn't... sit in that chair if I were you..." Ray begins to protest.

"Huh? Put a sock in it. I'm so out of it," he hushes her, leaning his head back against the stiff chair and closing his eyes.

 _But… He shouldn't sit there… It's dangerous…_

She can see the dangerous implications that he can't. She advances up the stairs, and he peeks open his gaze to glare at her.

"...I'd get outta that chair if I were you," she tells him firmly.

"What's the big deal?" he inquires hotly. "You couldn't find anything around here, right?"

Her brows knit together, and he watches her expression become distorted, bewildered.

"...But that chair…"

"Huh? What about this chair?"

The words take a moment to leave her mouth, but she meets his gaze as she speaks.

"It's probably for execution. An… electric chair."

A heartbeat of silence passes as Zack stares at her with incredulity. His mouth is open but nothing comes out, his brain clearly working to catch up and register what she said.

A sinister, loud click echoes through the room, and Ray watches a large metal restraint snap closed on Zack's torso. His arms and ankles receive the same treatment, bound by thick iron bands.

"...Ah!" Ray squeaks.

Zack immediately begins squirming under his bonds, the chair creaking under his weighty pulling but barely budging beneath him. He lets out a raging scream, the situation sinking in hard.

"Aaaaah! What the _fuck_?!" He yells. "Ray! Don't just stand there! _Do_ somethin'!"

"Okay, hang on a second," she says, though her eyes are wide.

Even her intelligent mind takes a moment to process what's going on. _What do I do? How can I get those restraints off him?_

" _Ahahahaha!"_

Both Zack and Ray both look up toward the ceiling at the same time as loud, coy laughter fills the room. She watches as a large monitor descends from the roof, flickering to life.

A woman is shown on screen, poised with an elegantly red-gloved hand to her mouth. Her outfit is a smart skirted business suit with a red tie and a small hat, and her hair is an above shoulder strawberry blonde that fades into a light pinkish-red. Her lips are painted a deep red, and her eyes are a vibrant green— filled to the brim with amusement.

She pinpoints Ray and smiles at her, the curve devoid of warmth and only showing her own pleasure in the situation.

" _Greetings! My apologies I can't be there in person,_ " she tells them smugly. " _You may call me Cathy._ _I_ _condemn the guilty on this floor. Don't forget it; I'll be the last thing you ever see!"_

Zack struggles hard against the straps, cursing under his breath, and the woman laughs mirthfully.

" _Well, my sinful duo… are you enjoying yourselves?_ — _Oh!_ " She feigns surprise at noticing the hooded boy's plight. " _Goodness! Zack sat in_ _that_ _chair, eh?_ "

" _Shit!_ Hey, you bitch! Get me outta this thing!" he shouts at her, livid.

Cathy giggles. " _Surely you jest! I'm afraid that just won't happen! What kind of executioner sets their convicts free?_ "

Her eyes grow wider, crazed with power.

" _Zack, my boy! I get giddy at the thought of seeing how well a monster like you can withstand my punishment!_ "

A harsh, liquid lightning crackle- and then Ray is forcefully thrown backward, rolling down the stairs and hitting the floor. Head throbbing from the impact, she takes a second to recover her bearings and then reopens her eyes to witness a shower of light over Zack.

… _! Zack!_

The area is closed off to her now, the fence come to life and shut her out, and Zack lets out a short cry of pain as his entire body lights up with electricity. She can only sit up and watch as volts of power course through his veins right in front of her, his fingers curled against the armrests and his scythe.

And then it's over, and the room falls silent. The electricity comes to a stop, and his body that had been tense with pain and power falls limp into the chair. Ray can't see his face, his head hanging too low and darkened by his hood for her to see if he's alright.

 _...Is he…?_

Her heartbeat is pounding through her ears, and she barely gets to her feet, eyes glued to his motionless form.

 _Zack, are you…?_

" _Why, Zack, what could be the matter?"_ Cathy inquires with a prim smile.

Ray stares at him, waiting for any sign that he's still alive, and her heart begins to sink, when-

"It _hurts,_ you _bitch_!"

Her blue orbs widen as he roars back to life, shaking so violently against the chair that she can hear wood splintering. He's absolutely furious, his multicolored eyes filled with seething anger, and he's a bit out of breath from the assault.

 _Zack's still alive,_ Ray realizes, releasing a relieved breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding. _He survived that. How? That much electricity could've killed someone, but he's still alive, and he doesn't even look as visibly hurt other than what he's let on._

As he struggles, Cathy grins delightfully. " _Incredible! Your lifeforce is so strong! A wonderful murdering monster! Oh, you're the_ _perfect_ _specimen of a sinner!_ " Her voice lets on her great pleasure at watching him writhe.

"Shut the fuck _up!_ " he snaps, yanking at the bonds holding him down. "Get this thing off me so I can wipe that fucked up smile off your face! _Raaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!_ "

She seems unfazed, simply tapping her chin with one long finger. Her gaze then focuses solely on Ray, eyes lit up with fascination.

" _Well… I'll leave the electric chair on so lots of lovely volts continue to course through your body. In the meantime, Rachel Gardner can find a way to deactivate it!_ " Her grin broadens. " _If you're lucky, then who knows— I might even let you both through here?_ "

Listening to Cathy torment Zack like this, and treating them both like they're toys to be played with, Ray can feel her fingers clenching into a fist at her side. _If she continues to put Zack under that stress, then he really will die..._

"...Stop it," she requests. "He won't survive."

The woman raises a brow, not expecting Ray to speak up. " _Oh, well_ _hello_ _my child. Does it not captivate you to learn how much of a tenacious monster of a sinner that Zack is? Besides…_ "

Her emerald eyes grow cold, darkening as they pin her down with their frosty glare.

"— _Do you think a sinner has any say in this?_ "

Ray goes still as Cathy raises her hand, pressing something off screen. A loud beeping issues out, and she leans in closer to her camera.

" _Well then! Let the punishment_ _begin_ _! Ladies and gentleman!_ "

Something activates behind the young girl, and she turns around to see that the dolls in the seats around her have all begun to come to life, moving jerkily and their heads switching back and forth.

" _Relish_ _this despicable sinner's writhing in agony!"_ Cathy declares, and a scripted, recorded audience roars up from behind, as if applauding the announcement to Ray's dismay.

 _No… What do I do?_

"Hey Ray?!"

Zack's voice beckoning her makes her pivot back to face him. His expression, though pained, is serious as he speaks.

"You know what you gotta do, right?! You gotta do this, or you won't be holdin' up your end of the bargain! Don't screw up- prove your usefulness to me! But let me _murder_ this _sadistic crazy bitch!_ " he snarls out.

 _...He's right. If he dies here, then he won't be able to escape- then he won't kill me. I have no choice here; I have to save him._

"...Okay," she agrees, willing up her determination. "I'll do what I can."

" _The loathing gaze of the audience upon the sinner…_ " Cathy intones, listening on on their exchange. " _That gaze is the virtue of that sinner's demise. Here, the eyes of the spectators exact the punishment._ "

Her mouth cuts into a thin-lipped smile.

"— _Alright. Now let the fun…_ _begin!_ "

Zack is thrown back into his chair as the device gets tossed back into use, his body trembling with the power. He's silent this time, bearing through the pain- and Ray flips around, eyes on the dolls around her, trying to make sense of the woman's words. She glances up, but she's turned off the screen and reset it.

 _I'm on my own here. What do I do?_

 _Eyes of the spectators… Does that mean these dolls are the spectators?_

She starts searching the dolls around her, trying to find out what to do. They all seem to be lightly moving or shifting, wavering as they observe Zack's torture. She nears one that looks a little odd, not active like its kin.

 _This doll isn't moving, plus its head is slumped. Does it not want to face forward? What if I…?_

Hearing Cathy's words in her head again about the eyes of the spectators, she grabs the back of the chair and turns it away from him, hearing a click underneath.

 _Did that do something? Maybe what I need to do is turn all of the spectators away from him?_

Ray sees a few other dolls similar to it, giving them the same treatment as the first, forcefully turning the heavy chairs in the opposite direction.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Zack's voice resounds through the room, finally breaking through his stoic endurance. "Hurry…. _up!_ "

 _...Is the current weakening?_

She rushes over to him. "I feel like the current is weakening," she calls over the buzz of electricity. "Zack, how is it?"

"How's _what?!_ " he says, his words shaky and hard to discern.

 _It must not be enough,_ she notes, _I'll hurry and turn more._

"Hurry your ass up!" he shouts.

"...I'll do my best," she answers him.

There aren't any more slumped bodies, but some of them seem to be moving faster. She checked a few that don't seem as easy to destroy, but she notices that a select few are fastened in tight, but their heads are bare and left untouched.

 _...I'll have to try something else here._

Without giving it more than a second thought, she takes hold of a puppet's head, and yanks it around. It cracks under her grasp, like the sickening crunch of bone breaking as she twists it.

Finding a rest like it, and turning their heads, she hears the electricity audibly becoming less lethal and powerful.

 _I knew it. The current_ _is_ _weakening. But…_

Looking around, she can already tell that the remainder of them can't be as easily broken or turned. They're strapped down and unmovable.

 _...How do I make the rest of the dolls turn away from the electric chair? If I can just get the heads to move…_

A new thought comes to mind. It's not the most practical nor thoughtful, but it's the only thing she can come up with.

"Is it any better, Zack?" she calls to him, returning to the blocked gate.

"Ahhh… aaaaaaahhh…. Aaaaahhhhh….!" comes his breathless response, "Are you fuckin' with me?!"

"Hey, can you throw your scythe to me?" she asks him.

"... _Huuuuuuuuuh?!_ "

There's no time to really explain the situation, so she tries to be forceful with the request. "Throw it here. I need it for something."

Another sharp cry, and then he grips the scythe and flings it toward her. It skitters down the stairs and lands on the bottom… on the other side of the gate.

" _Damn you_! There! Now _do something!_ "

Already she can see the problem. The weapon is flung in the worst spot, on the other side of the stinging hot fence, proving a new challenge to overcome.

"...I can't reach it," she says with a frown.

" _I caaaaaaaaan't moooooooove!_ " he warbles out to her, his words filled with pain. " _Theeee resssstttt is uuuuuuup to yooooouuuuu!"_

She can't imagine the kind of agony he must be feeling. She resolves to hurry as quickly as she can. "...Hang in there."

The fence is hot to the touch, and she ponders how to get his weapon when she remember the rag she'd taken earlier. _Would that help me here?_

Using the cloth, she barely manages to reach the handle and pull it to her, but she does. Lifting the heavy weapon in her hands, she feels the weight of it pulling her down. She's a bit surprised he can use it so effortlessly, but, well… he's much stronger than she is.

 _Wow, this is heavy… Probably won't be making any clean slashes with it like Zack. I'll do what I can._

She approaches one of the still-moving dolls, holding the scythe in both hands in an effort to use it properly. No, she definitely can't make any proper cuts with it, but… she can saw through them.

Raising the blade, she presses the sharp edge to the neck of the doll and pulls back on it. The blade easily works through the inner workings and soft outer coating, and she works it back and forth. She pours her strength into it, knowing she's nothing close to Zack's size and power, but knowing that this is her only chance to save him.

 _If I can't do this, then he'll die._

The scythe rips through the puppet, the disembodied head dropping to the floor and rolling a few inches. Some of the internal fluff and mechanical junk is stuck to the blade, but there's not enough time to clean it off, especially when it'll inevitably be covered in more.

Ray sets to work, slowed down by the giant weapon, but she pushes herself to move as fast as she can to cut the heads off. A few minutes later, she finally tears through the final one, and she hears the volts of electricity finally stop.

Breathless, tired, and the scythe a heavy burden in her hands, her blue eyes flash over to where Zack sits.

 _...Is Zack okay?_

Dragging his weapon along with her, she moves toward the barred off area where he sits. Already, she can tell he doesn't look good. His head is slumped over, and he's dead quiet. The scent of burning flesh is strong, and she can feel her pulse picking up.

The door that had kept her from him opens easily for her, no longer hot either, and she slowly moves toward him. The restraints that had kept him there have been removed, and he's free to move- yet he lies motionless.

"Zack, you okay?" she hedges.

Silence. No answer at all. She nibbles her lip a bit anxiously.

"...Zack?"

For what feels like a very long while, nothing happens, her fingers bone white around his scythe as she waits for a response. Then she notices his eyes open.

A rush of relief floods her bloodstream as he carefully hops out of the chair. He's a bit shaky, but she can hardly blame him after having been under so much pure electricity for so long. If only she had been quicker about it…

"...Hey," he says, meeting her gaze.

Her mouth moves, but she can't form words, her mind drawing a blank. He comes near her, making her back up a few steps as he shows his irritation toward her.

"What the hell took you so long?!" he reprimands her, throwing out his hands. "A little longer, and a drop of my piss could've powered the world for a thousand fuckin' years!"

His anger misses its mark, however. She ignores it, gazing at him.

"...So you're alive," Ray states.

" _Ding ding ding!_ " he remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "What do we have for her, Johnny?!"

Her heartbeat has slowed down, but the relieved feeling in her chest stays, and she lets out a soft exhale.

"...Thank goodness," she murmurs gently. "I… wouldn't know what to do if you died."

"Stupid!" he berates her, almost smug in his reply. "As if I'd die so easy!

She blinks. "...Incredible!"

The sound of a static transmission comes through, and Ray spots the screen over Zack's shoulder turn on and lower, revealing Cathy's figure once more, her laughter following suit. She seems pleased, perching her chin on her gloved palms.

" _Simply incredible! He survived!_ " she comments with fascination. " _I knew it! It's the resilience of murderous monsters that make them so alluring! Oh, what an exemplary and perfect specimen you are, Zack! To tell the truth, I'd hoped to witness the very moment that life leaves your body._ "

She twirls something around her finger, what appears to be a riding crop, and her shell-shaped lips curve into a ruthless smile.

" _Seeing her work so hard has convinced me to be nice this time— you may pass through!_ "

Ray's peripheral catches sight of the heavy iron wall from before sliding into the wall, opening the passage for them, while the woman continues on.

" _Besides… punishment for one's sins is not a one time thing. One must be punished for as many sins committed. Isn't that lovely?_ "

Her high, cheery laughter punctuates the end of the transmission, and the monitor goes blank once more. Zack waves a fist at her, beyond annoyed.

"You sadistic bitch! That stupid-ass chuckle of yours pisses me off. If you weren't hidin' safely behind that monitor, I'd have sliced you up good!"

Ray watches his antics for a moment. _At least he's still himself,_ she muses silently.

He spins around on her, stretching out his hand. "Hey, gimme that back," he says, jerking his chin toward the scythe.

Oh, right. She'd nearly forgotten it's still in her hands. "Okay."

She hands it back to him, and he easily grips it in one hand while she'd fought with two. The moment he glances at the blade, his expression melts into repulsion.

"...What the-?! What the fuck is this?! There's some kinda junk all over it!" he complains.

"...I used it to cut the heads off the dolls," she explains to him.

It dawns on him then that there are dismembered heads littering the floor around them from her actions, and he narrows his eyes at her.

"What're you? Some sort of doll-killin' psychopath...? What the hell were you doin'?"

She shakes her head. "It seems the mechanism had to do with the dolls' gazes, so I made them face away from you."

He stares at her for a minute, and then rubs his face with his free hand.

"...You use my scythe for some weird shit, and I turn into an electric eel— it's just one damn thing after another," he grouses aloud.

She furrows her brows. "...It's half your own fault."

"Shut it!" he says forcefully, pointing her direction. "It's you who needs to be more careful!"

She widens her eyes, taken off guard by his words. Realizing he's said something a little odd, he hisses through his teeth and brushes his bangs aside, walking past her.

"Let's get goin'!"

 _...What was that all about?_

Ray's mouth thins into a small line with thought, and she casts a look toward the now-dormant chair. The mental image of Zack, lifelessly lying in its clutches, and of his slender body being pulverized by the sheer amount of electricity from before, has burned itself into her mind's eye.

 _If this is only one of the trials that await us… will we survive long enough to get off this floor?_ she wonders. _If Cathy has her way, will we die here?_

This trial itself nearly got Zack killed. If this is what type of things she has in store for them… she can't imagine what might wait beyond that corridor.

 _I can't back down now. I have to help him escape before I can die._

 _We just have to survive Cathy's deadly playground._

* * *

 _A/N:_ Unbeta'd, while listening to The Pale of The World on repeat. Save me.

I'm sorry y'all, these chapters are totally out of hand at this point but I can only do so much. Hope you don't mind, this will probably keep happening. I'm really surprised I've been able to write so much over the last while!

Anyways, I won't keep you here. Just let me know if you enjoyed the update, your thoughts on the matter, and if you're excited for the next chapter... where everything really goes to hell, and Zack gets some background development!

Read on, and thanks for making it this far. See you next update.

~disclaimer~ I have a dislike of Cathy and an interest in floors like hers, but I don't own the game.


	9. Poisonous Risk

The room that lies before them is just as foreboding as the previous.

The two find themselves in a small area, where a patch of bright crimson red stone leads to a thick, heavy metal door in the center of the wall off to the left. Windows lined in steel are on either side, but they're too smudged and dirty to see much of anything within.

Another, lesser door on the other end of the room lies closed, and Zack strides to it almost immediately, yanking at the handle with force. It doesn't budge under his hand despite his efforts.

"It's locked," Ray says with a frown, coming up near him, and he responds by slamming his palm flat against the door several times, eliciting a harsh racket.

"Hey!" he barks out, fed up. "Open up!"

The girl casts her ice blue gaze around the room. Cameras blinking with activity are turned in their direction— Cathy no doubt keeping an eye on them— but nothing happens.

"...There's no response," she murmurs.

" _Shit_ ," her companion curses under his breath, pulling himself up to his full height. His scythe glints as he throws it over his shoulder. She watches him make the same move she had, his bi-colored eyes glaring at the cameras overhead.

"It's that woman- she's probably spyin' on us right now!" he growls.

Ray's lips purse together as he kicks at the door with frustration, her fingers lightly fiddling with the strap of her bag.

 _We're really not getting very far. If Cathy's watching us right now, she's probably enjoying this._

"...So, Zack..." she begins quietly. "How much do you know about this building?"

He stops his assault on the door to tilt his head her direction, narrowing his eyes. "Huh? Didn't you ask me the same thing before?"

"I did, but..." Her fingers continue to squeeze and twist her purse strap, but she keeps level eye contact with him as she talks. "The people in this building... I was wondering how much you know about them?"

She has to admit to herself that after the last few floors, something seems a bit strange. Albeit Zack doesn't seem like the type to make friends with fellow murderers, he _does_ seem to recognize them, though that hasn't stopped him from killing them before. Do they have emotional ties to him in some way, or are they simply annoyances for him? His actions and reactions have been strange and inquiry inducing, and she can't help her own curiosity.

And... if he knows them, then why are they so eager to off him, too?

" _Huh?!_ The guys here?" he repeats, like she's asked a dumb question. He places a hand on his hip and takes a moment to think of an answer.

"...All I know is they're creepy as fuck," he finally replies, shrugging his shoulders.

She blinks. "...Really?"

He nods his head, adjusting his blade into a more comfortable position. "I never really hung around on the other floors in the first place- 'cept for movin' between floors. Sure, they'd show themselves to me once in a blue moon... but they're all fucking crazy. Not the kind you'd have a chitchat with."

 _Ah. That... sort of explains it..._

"...Crazy..." she mumbles to herself. Then she continues in a louder, more direct tone, "...So, did you ever get the urge to kill them?"

The question slipped out before she had time to put much thought into it. If she had, the answer would've come to her naturally, but instead she finds herself gazing at him intently.

"Huh?" he gapes, not prepared for her bluntness.

She waits a moment, and then reconsiders her choice. She simply shakes her head dismissively and closes her eyes. "...Never mind... Let's look elsewhere."

 _It was a pointless question to ask, wasn't it?_ Just by the way he talks, the obvious choice is clear- he most likely wouldn't have hesitated to take them out.

She turns her back on him despite his confused expression, and focuses her attention on the room around them. The only other way through is the sealed metal door to the north of the room, but something tells her that whatever's inside may not be safe, just by glancing at the scratch marks across the windows. Still, she approaches the door, realizing there's a card on it that says ' _Extreme Caution'._

 _It's only cementing my concerns,_ she thinks, gazing at it intently.

"This looks like the only way to go," Zack says, coming up behind her and scratching his head through his hoodie, face scrunched up with irritation.

Ray glances at him. "...I greatly fear for our safety," she replies softly.

"There's no freakin' point to worryin' about that bullshit now, is there?" he sharply counters, waving a hand dismissively.

She quiets, her blue eyes still trained on him with the same mix of worry despite his words, and he returns it with a glare.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" he presses.

"Zack..." she begins to warn him. "You should consider what I'm saying..."

"We don't got _time_ for this!"

Without waiting to listen to her words, Zack grabs hold of the door and yanks it open. She feels her hesitation kick in almost instantly, but she knows inside that he won't change his mind once it's set. When he steps into the darkened room, she finds herself following after despite her own anxious caution.

Inside, the air hits them both strongly, the scent of blood and the cloying stench of... something rather disgusting and dangerous that she can't quite put her finger on. It's enough to set her stomach roiling.

As their eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting— just barely aided by the illumination from outside— she can figure out her general surroundings. Metal cabinets, barren and dirtied walls, a large safe in the corner of the room and a smaller one closer by, counters strewn with some various things that don't make sense like a pair of scales and a small box. Before them on the wall is a set of eight television screens, all black and powered off, and nearby Ray realizes that the large smear she at first thought was mud splashed against the plaster is actually darkened blood.

In the center of the room, though she doesn't see it until she flutters her gaze over it a third time, is something that looks rotten, yet somewhat still fresh. A bloodied, skinned figure... a corpse lying on the floor in a sprawled heap.

 _This... This can't be good._ Most others would feel disgust, or nausea, but... she can only feel concern. _Was this the last person to enter this room?_

A heavy thud behind them makes the two whirl around, but it's already too late; the door they'd stepped through has swung shut, and the click of a lock echoes throughout the small room.

"...I suspected as much," Ray sighs, her expression grim.

 _That means we're trapped in here._

" _Shiiit!_ " Zack curses, moving to bang his fist against the door, though he seems as unsurprised as she is. He frowns at it. "Well... it doesn't surprise me anymore that it would be locked."

She feels the same; after all, they've dealt with so many locked doors that at this point it almost feels routine.

 _Is this door controlled by a mechanism, like the ones before?_ she wonders, peering at it. Just by giving it a once-over, she finds nothing worthy of note, unfortunately. No keyhole as per usual, which means she's probably onto something already.

 _What does Cathy have planned...?_

She wanders along the room, trying to figure out what's what and what objects in the messy room could be helpful. The tiny box on the table seems to be locked with a mechanism, by no surprise, and the scales beside it have no weights to follow. The small safe is locked, too, and the cabinets seem to hold nothing of value that she can tell. A poker is above her head, out of her reach unfortunately. Not that it would probably help to open the door, anyways- it's quite a solid metal.

One of the cabinet doors is warped shut, and she tries to force it open using only her strength, the effort ending up futile after a few moments of struggling. Leaving it for the time being, she continues her search, stepping around the deceased on the ground without giving it much thought. There's a shoddy mattress propped up against the wall, clearly having seen better days and encrusted with grime and who knows what else. Beside it are bloodied scratch marks that seem to climb the wall, toward what looks like a vent near the ceiling, far too tall for her or even Zack for that matter.

A little more perusing reveals the large safe in the back of the room is locked as well, and the pile of boxes beside it hold nothing either. She spots a strange, somewhat misshapen gas mask dangling from the roof above, connected to many wires and tubes. It looks dusty and untouched, as well as fragile- but it might've proven useful if it wasn't rooted to the ceiling.

 _Too bad it doesn't seem to be portable..._

Realizing Zack is glancing over something on the other side of the room, she starts to head back to him. White markings on the nasty floor draw her eyes as she accidentally steps onto them, however.

 _"Men with unsightly legs. The men who lay here are spineless, murderous fools who tread on life with their own feet. Rather than agonize for admitting one's sins, simply abandon those legs; though even that proves futile. In the end, both those feet are merely used by foolish sinners to wander hell for all eternity."_

 _...How strange,_ Ray ponders it for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the body unrecognizable by her feet. The legs seem to still be intact, for the time being- so what is the purpose of the writing?

 _...If it's not important right now, I'll leave it be,_ she decides.

She finished wandering near Zack who's glaring now at the walls around him and mumbling to himself. Near him is an odd little invention that looks like a laptop fused to a large box with a card slot, and is labelled 'Gate Access'.

 _This takes a card, then? Could the card we need be located in this room somewhere?_ She'd thought she'd given it a good once over, but maybe she hadn't been looking very hard. Zack's not being much help, though he seems to have found something lying on the counter near the TV screens.

"What is it?" she asks, and he raises it for her to see.

"It's a key," he answers, letting it catch the light. It's made of dark metal, stark contrast to his pale white-bandaged fingertips. "I think it says somethin', but I can't read it."

She takes it from him to examine it. "...It says 'Large Safe' on it," she reads.

The two turn their gaze toward the back of the room, where the tall safe sits untouched. Making their way over, she takes the key and turns it in the lock on the tall vault, hearing the click of acceptance.

Zack hefts open the door, and the gaping wide inside is revealed— horribly empty, save for one tiny object toward the floor. A single remote control.

"Hey, is that all?" he protests, disbelieving.

"Uh-huh."

"The hell? That safe's as big as me, and that's all that was in there? A big-ass safe with nothin' worthwhile inside— it's like oversized garbage from hell," he gripes on, displeased.

She has to admit, the sight of nothing but the remote is a little disappointing, but her gaze flickers to the dark tv screens.

Checking the remote for batteries, which it thankfully has, she wanders past Zack and to the pile of screens against the wall. He sidles up beside her curiously just as she presses the button- and the screens flash alive with electricity, revealing a staticky feed- through which a familiar voice emanates.

" _How's everyone doing?"_ Cathy sweetly asks, and her image appears on each screen, her lips curled into a pleasant smile. " _This is a video for all you sinners out there! Allow me to clue you in on what's going on._ "

Ray and Zack stand side by side as the woman continues on, her voice warbling high through the video. The feed seems to have been recorded previously, the blonde notes.

" _The death trap in this room has been designed with an extravagant... 'twist',_ " she hums brightly. " _It features an airtight interior to ensure no air leaks outside. Naturally, the room comes complete with reinforced glass windows! Go on, just_ _try_ _to break them! And permating the interior is something wonderful, indeed! This lovely feature will oh-so-gently coat the sinners' lungs in toxic death! Have you guessed it yet?_ "

Ray's already begun realizing what's going on just by the twisted smile painted across Cathy's shell-shaped lips, but the master of the floor doesn't hesitate to ram home her intentions with a brilliant, white grin.

"— _That's right! Deluxe poison gas!_ "

Zack immediately tenses up beside her, and he looks ready to smash in the screens of the TVs with his scythe. Above their heads, a sharp siren begins blaring out loud, red light flashing through the room with urgency.

 _I knew that this wasn't safe._ Ray can feel her instincts kicking in, while the strawberry blonde laughs onscreen.

" _Oh yes! Of course... that's not to mean there isn't a means of escape,_ " she adds in honeyed tones. " _Out of the mercy of my heart, I've prepared not two, but_ _one_ _shoddy gas mask that's so old, it could crumble away in your hands at any moment! Good luck escaping before your mask breaks, filling your poor pair of lungs with toxic poison! have fun and be sure to breathe sparingly! Don't take this personally, runaway convict and alluring sinner... Just be sure to let the gas do its job if you fail to dazzle me, m'kay?_ "

Her laughter resounds through the speakers, irritatingly loud.

" _Ah, I almost forgot! Should you bore me by taking too long to meet your maker, keep in mind there's a time limit! Go over the time limit, and there's an extra special gift for you—extra potent super deluxe poison gas! Check the TV to keep tabs on the time limit, m'kay? I hope you have a fantastic time!"_

Her transmission goes out, leaving only an hourglass-shaped timer on every screen indicating their time left. Zack turns to her, gripping his weapon tightly in both hands.

"...Hey," he says gruffly, his eyes serious. "What's the plan?"

Thankfully, while Cathy'd been going on about her elaborate scheme, Ray'd already been thinking hard about what to do. She's a bit thankful she'd surveyed the area before this occurred, but... still, she's not sure where to start. But her goal is to help Zack get out of here— she can't fail.

"Her explanation said that there's a way to escape," she says, returning his gaze coolly. She's level-headed and firm as she speaks. "...I'll do everything in my power to find how."

Zack's left staring at her for a moment, but she doesn't let that stop her. Ray gestures toward the gas mask in the back. "At any rate, let's hurry and put on the gas mask."

 _We don't have much time. The hourglass is filling little by little, and we have to hurry. The poison will seep in further the longer we take. We can't waste any time._

Already her nose is starting to burn, and the scent she couldn't figure out before is now crystal clear— the scent of poison, burning, potent, and fatal. There's a low hiss around her in the walls, and she knows the toxic air is already being vented through to them.

Ray grabs Zack's wrist, and while he resist and tries to pull out of her grasp, she practically yanks him along to the back of the room.

"Hey- what the fuck-!"

His protest die down when he realizes she's leading him to the gas mask, and once they're there she gestures to it quickly. He frowns at her, but he does as she asks without much more struggle. His bandaged face is enveloped in the big, clunky mask, but his eyes are pinned on her. She can see how his face contorts with disgust at the musty face covering.

To anyone else, she knows they would fight over the mask and the clean air it supposedly provides- but she knows that one of them needs to be looking for a way out, and she's the one who has to figure out their path through this ticking room of poison. It's dangerous, surely, but it's the only way she can do what has to be done... no matter how it affects her.

"Hey," Zack says, his voice muffled through the mask. "I gotta put this on?"

"Yeah. The cord makes it so it can't be moved from here," Ray explains. "Whoever searches the room can't use it, so go ahead and use it for now."

"Gotcha. But what happens if you die?" he asks, leaning his scythe up against his shoulder.

 _What happens?_ Her eyes darken, but she shakes her head.

"...We'll find out," she replies.

To her surprise, he grows belligerent at her words, his multicolored eyes growing irritated. "We'll find out?! Cut the crap! If you die, then I'll be stuck here! Figure it out!"

Ray hadn't expected him to make such a fuss over it, since it's her own life she's risking but breathing in the toxic fumes- but in a way, she's a little glad he's not leaving her to do it all herself.

 _I'll find the path to freedom, but I'll need a bit of help, I'm sure. I won't stop until I help you escape, Zack._

"Okay," she amends. "How's this; I'll go take a look around for a bit, and then come switch places with you."

He snorts through the filtered mask, but seems appeased. "...Fine. It's better than you dyin' on me. Hurry up- this mask is gettin' on my nerves. It's hard to talk and reeks of dust... so make a point not to talk to me, got it?"

She nods her head in acknowledgement, and turns around. _I have to move._

Her first check is the figure lying on the floor- the most obvious puzzle piece. She glances down at it, and frowns. She hadn't noticed before, but the figure's hand seems to be strewn out a bit, and the index finger seems to be pointing at something- a line, scratched out into the floor.

 _Is this some kind of path?_ It resembles a squiggle of dried blood, but it seems to have been painted there with purpose. The more she looks it over, the more it seems like directions.

... _Left, down, right, down, right, down..._

Ray makes a mental note of it, and then starts searching the cabinets once more. What had been seen as useless junk before now has meaning, and she searches for the most helpful thing- a pair of scissors.

 _This could be useful if I had something I needed to cut. And... above on a shelf..._

The poker she'd spotted earlier lies out of her reach, and she realizes she'll need Zack's help to get it.

 _I'll ask him soon- I'll keep looking yet._

She hurries over to re-check the boxes along the wall, near the mattress. As she does, she notices something odd, hidden in the ratty old bed. In a sown part of the cloth, it looks like something might've been placed inside. She tugs at the strings, and hears something rattling inside.

Without hesitation she brings out the scissors, slicing through the hastily sewn hole, and opening it wide enough to reach her hand inside. When she tries, the inner fluff of the mattress coats her hand- and something metallic falls into her grasp.

 _It's... a key!_ She turns it over and over in her hand, noting the smallness of it.

 _What else needed a key? Wait- the other safe, the shorter one._

She hurries over to it. At this point, she can feel the poison beginning to affect her movements; she's becoming a little more sluggish, and breathing is becoming harder and harder to accomplish in the growing foggy, toxic atmosphere around her. Her eyes are watering, and each breath stings.

 _Cathy meant what she said before; this poison is potent and strong. If I'm exposed to it for too long, it really will kill me. And then, Zack won't be able to leave._

Her determination, not to strive for her life but to rescue his, pushes her on to fight the poison. Fumbling with the key, she turns it in the safe's keyhole and pulls it open, the door clanging open with a heavy creak.

 _Some wire?_ Again she's exposed to disappointment at the lack of more resourceful uses of the safe's space, but she resigns herself quickly to using it as best she can. _It may not be ideal, but I'll find a way to make it work._

Ray heads back toward Zack again, rifling around where the gask mask was in search of anything useful, and she can feel his eyes on her the entire time. He shifts uncomfortably near her, tense.

"...What's the point of wearin' this thing, anyway?" she hears him ask, and she turns her gaze on him, raising a brow during her search.

"It filters the gas so you don't inhale the poison," she describes, but he only frowns at her through the mask.

"Huh? The way you explained that doesn't make sense whatsoever," he says cluelessly, and she sighs a little.

"The mask turns the poison gas into clean air, So don't take it off," she clarifies for him, and this time he seems to understand her words.

"Oh? Turns it into clean air, huh? That's uh.. pretty handy," he says, seeming a bit interested in it for a moment.

She nods, getting ready to continue her search across the room. "It sure is."

When she walks, she finds herself stumbling, just slightly, and she finds movement a difficult task for a moment. He catches the moment of imbalance, and something registers in his expression.

"Hey, so that means... you've been inhalin' poison the whole time?"

Did he not realize? She finds herself allowing a pained swallow, her tongue feeling a tad dry in her mouth. "You... could say... that..."

"Wha-!" His outrage is evident even while she's not looking his way. "Hey! You could die if you're not careful! I can't have you go dyin' on me! Stop with the chit-chat and get your ass in gear!"

 _...I don't need to be told twice,_ she internally agrees.

She pushes herself toward the room once more, pacing her breaths to inhale as little of the gas as she can. Her blue eyes scan the entirety of her surroundings, and she lights on the stain on the wall she'd thought was mud before. Actually... it looks like there's something underneath all the mess, but she has nothing to clean it off with as of yet.

 _I have that rag from before, but it's dirtied too much to be useful. Maybe later?_

Her eyes drift down to the body against the floor, and she narrows her gaze. One place she hadn't checked was underneath it, but can she even move it?

 _It's worth trying._

She kneels down and grips onto the fleshy, somewhat stiff creature. Though she tries with all her weakening might, the figure seems to be stuck to the floor and heavier than she anticipates.

 _It's too much for me to move on my own._

Pulling herself up to her full height again, her movement is unsteady. The gas is wearing down on her at this point, and she's at a standstill.

 _...Maybe I can ask him to take over searching for a bit._

"...Zack," she says, approaching him.

"Oh? What?"

"I checked around, but there's a place that's out of my reach, and somewhere that requires more force than I'm capable of," Ray tells him, and he crosses his arms.

"And?"

She stares at him for a moment, until he grows agitated.

"Hey! How can I know unless you tell me! Don't make me repeat myself," he scowls.

Right. She goes for the most direct path with her words, even as her vision begins to blur and her thoughts become a bit harder to piece together.

"...The poison gas is making me woozy... I want to trade places."

"Huuuuh?" His face contorts, dumbfounded by her lack of forthcoming information and the admission. He grips hold of his scythe tightly. "Why didn't you tell me that?! We're already on a crunch for time; if you die, then I'll never get outta here!"

"...Yeah," she murmurs.

" _Damn it,_ " he curses, then yanks off the mask with quick force. He shoves it into her hands and switches with her, pushing her back where he'd been standing. With the mask in her hands, she doesn't waste time putting it up and over her head. It barely fits, a touch too big, and the air escapes despite her best effort to keep it pressed close. The mask itself is hot and a little sweaty, presumably from being worn by Zack, and smells fairly disgusting.

"Okay, so I just need to check out the places that you couldn't, huh?" he asks her, and she nods her head.

"Yeah."

"Gotcha. Now you stay here, and breathe like there's no tomorrow!" he commands her.

He walks off, and she leans against the table beside her, watching his movements.

 _Breathe like there's no tomorrow, huh?_

 _...Okay._

 **.x.X.x.**

 _Shit._

Ray wasn't kidding when she said the poison was getting to her. Zack could tell just with a glance that she'd breathed in too much. Hell, if they hadn't switched places, she really might've keeled over dead.

Not for nothing, either— the poison really is strong. Just after having the mask off for a few moments, he can feel the sting of each breath and the poison gas. After having nearly been electrocuted to death, he's really putting his battered body through hell and back.

 _I can't have her passin' out or dyin' on me right now. She's my only ticket outta here._ Not to mention he doesn't actually want to see her die to that smug bitch, Cathy. Not before he gets to rip her wide open.

 _Ray said somethin' about somethin' being too far outta her reach- and another somethin' bein' too heavy. Fuck, couldn't she have been more specific?_

He'd watched her the entire time she'd been scouring the room, her little hands darting out of cabinets and confusing places. She seemed to make some progress, at least, but he can't necessarily blame her for needing a break. Not that it's much help- the mask doesn't work worth a damn, no thanks to the blonde bimbo running the show.

 _There's no way I'm dyin' down here like some put-down puppy._

Deciding he needs to put some brain cells to work, he tries to think about what she might've meant. His sharp eyes flash along the room, and he recalls how she'd struggled with the thing on the floor for awhile- whatever it is.

He kicks it with the toe of his shoe, and it doesn't budge, a heavier object than he thought at first. He raises a brow.

 _Is this a corpse?_

With a frown, he leans down, and accomplishes what she didn't- with a hefty grunt, he rips the body from its place on the ground and rolls it over, hearing something snap and break at his effort. He grumbles to himself when he finds nothing underneath it worthwhile.

 _Nothin'- plus the damn leg came off,_ he thinks with disgust. But after a moment, he realizes something, leaning closer to the leg.

 _...Hmm? No... it didn't come off, it was already severed,_ he blinks, poking it with his scythe.

 _Oh well. Guess I'll take this leg to her._

Gripping onto the leg, he scours the cabinet nearby, frowning to himself. Nothing of value- nothing worth nothing.

 _...Oh?_ His eyes target the object above, a rusty poker low enough for him to reach. _Is that thing on the shelf what she was talkin' about?_

He retrieves it, placing it and the leg under his arm. There's more stuff on the shelf nearby, and he figures she probably wants it too, so he swipes it down into his waiting grasp, finding it to be some kind of satchel.

 _...Man, she can't even reach this high? Pfft..._ He chuckles to himself smugly, glancing at her through the corner of his eye. ... _Probably can't ride any roller coasters either..._

He curiously opens the bag, and frowns at the contents. _Huh? All that's in the bag is a lump of iron? What does she even want with this?_

Brushing it off as just another one of those weird things only she'd understand, he hangs onto it too. Crossing to the next cabinet, he finds it won't budge under his hand.

He forces it again, and again, with no luck- and he can feel his temper shortening.

 _If that's how it wants to play, then I'll smash it til it opens!_

He hits it with his scythe, and after a few swings, he sees it beginning to crack and bend under his assault. His grin is blindingly wide with triumph.

 _Oh! Maybe I've got it?!_

His scythe crashes into it again, over and over. He exerts himself a bit more than he should, probably, but he doesn't stop until it finally cracks in half, splitting into jagged pieces.

"Look, I told you!" he exclaims aloud happily. "This is the quickest way to get shit done! What's inside?!"

Not bothering to look over at Ray (and knowing she's probably being disapproving from the sidelines again,) he rifles through his treasure trove for whatever wonderful thing waits inside for him.

A... cleaning brush. The only thing in it was a barely used cleaning brush.

Zack simply stares at it for a moment with disbelieving eyes, his disappointment overwhelming, and he silently places it with the other things he'd collected.

... _God dammit. Man, i feel like an idiot. All that for some piece-of-shit brush._

He moves off to the side, glancing up over the wall- and notices scratch marks. He follows them up to the ceiling, where some kind of vent seems to be.

 _...Oh? There's somethin' up there._

He tries to jump on the pile of empty crates nearby to reach it, but it's too tall even for him to reach. He leaps back to ground level, frowning.

 _Shit! I can't reach it... Fuck._

At this point, even he's starting to feel the effects of the gas kicking into his system. He might be a resilient bastard, but the stuff's strong enough to make him want to toss up whatever he ate last- some kind of sign he must be weakening.

 _I'm gonna heave. What's wrong with me? Am I stressed out?_ His anger at his own self not being able to handle the poison grinds on his nerves. _My body's totally fucked, nothin's makin' any sense... Guess I'll turn back._

"Hey," he says, returning to her side. The blonde isn't looking too good, leaning against the table nearby. he can see that she's sweating bullets, and clearly unsteady.

 _Fuck, if we don't get out of here soon, we're both gonna keel._

"What?" she asks him, her voice quiet and nearly muffled inaudibly by the facemask.

"I have no idea what I gotta do next," he tells her with a shrug.

"I see," she says with resignation, straightening up and already moving to take off the mask. "...Then switch places with me."

"Okay," he says, nodding his head. "I'm counting on you."

 _Not like I can do a damn thing else right now without her help. She better figure out the escape plan pronto, or this is going to end badly._

As they switch spots once more and he slips the mask back on, he catches a whiff of something sweet for a moment- possibly her shampoo or something funny?- and it takes him off guard. But she's already ready to move.

"Here, I'll pass you what I found," he tells her, dropping his armload of things to the floor. She blinks at it all. "They're just useless objects to me, so find a way to use 'em."

She rifles through the mound of odds and ends. "A poker, iron weight, a brush..." she pauses. "...A leg."

"What the hell's a brush good for?" he inquires, rubbing the back of his head.

"...Never mind the brush..." she begins, but he's quick to shut her down. Like fuck if he's gonna take flac for his hard-earned stuff after being subjected to that poison.

"Are you bitchin' to me? What do you want me to do?! Spin gold from straw or somethin?!"

She sighs visibly, and gathers up what she can hold. "I'll... uh... do what I can."

She wanders off, and he watches her go. Though he can feel the toxic crap settling in his lungs, he's ready to trade with her again if need be.

... _We really gotta get a move on, though, this stuff reeks._

 **.x.X.x.**

 _Alright. Where do I start?_

Ray looks over the things her companion had dropped at her feet. Most of it she could find uses for, but... the leg is questionable.

 _I have no time to complain, however- I'll make do somehow._

She decides on using the brush he'd so easily swept aside. Heading to the nasty wall, she uses it to scrub off the layer of grime and blood, revealing words carved into the plaster. By the time she's done, the brush is unusable again, stained deep crimson— but the words are legible.

" _Acknowledge thy sin and sever the part that hath committed it. Rest it along with the weight of thy sin on the scales. Yet, should it be great as thy soul, thy desire shan't come to pass._ "

It only takes her a moment to think hard on the meaning of the message, before glancing at the objects in her hands.

 _I gotta match up the amount of the sin with the weight on the scales..._

 _Ah!_

The strange chalky message from before comes to mind, the saying about sinful legs making her gaze at the limb Zack had given her with growing suspicion. her eyes trail to the set of scales a few feet away.

 _What if... I place the leg, and the iron weight, on the scale...?_

She moves fast, feeling time running out. Her gaze is becoming more and more blurry despite her best efforts to stay clear-minded, and when she glances at the timer Cathy'd left them, she realizes the hourglass is filling up fast.

 _Have to hurry...!_

She approaches the scale. she places the leg on one side, weighing down heavily, and then the iron weight on the other. At first she's unsure of the balance, but then they swing into equality. When they settle, the small red and gold box she couldn't open before pops open with a click.

 _...It opened...?_

When she peeks inside, she finds an old, dusty battery-powered lantern inside. She blinks at it with deep thought, examining it.

 _...Looks like it has no batteries..._

Stumped on what to do next or how to proceed, she turns her gaze toward Zack, waiting at the end of the room for her. An odd thought passes her mind.

 _...He'd probably say, "you won't know unless you tell me", right? Maybe Zack would have some advice about this._

Already making up her mind, she heads for him, drawing his attention quickly.

"Zack..."

"Huh? What is it?" he hastily asks her. "Did you find a way out?"

"...Uhhh," she begins, expression growing shy.

"Huh? Hurry up!" he commands her, having no patience, and she sighs softly.

"Okay..."

He only grows more irritated, not waiting for her to continue. "What do you want? You wanna switch places again?"

She takes a moment, and then her brows furrow together.

"...Umm... I got a question for you," she answers instead, and he waves his scythe with annoyance.

"What _is_ it? Spit it out!"

She takes a short breath, feeling the sting ache within her lungs. "I, uh... I don't really know where to look anymore," she confesses. "Do you have any ideas for places that might turn up something?"

He gapes at her through the mask, clearly surprised by her inquiry. "Ohhh? _Me?_ Places that might turn up somethin?"

Ray nods, though her mind is telling her that this might be a fruitless endeavor. "Yeah..."

"If _you_ can't find it, what the hell makes you think I ca- _wait_!"

In the middle of his reprimand, a light goes on in Zack's eyes, taking her off guard. He raises a finger in thought, an idea forming visibly via his expression alone.

"I know a place."

Her eyes widen, a glimmer of hope beginning to shine in her chest faintly. "...! Where?"

"High up on the wall... there was some kind of dug-out space," he says, gesturing over his shoulder. She follows his gaze, seeing the opening he was talking about. It's pitch black within, but still visible.

"But even if I prop up a box on its side and stand on it, I can't reach it. So there's no way you could."

"...I see," she says, the hope fading just as quickly as it had come, her eyes downcast. "...We're screwed."

Zack goes quiet for a moment, and she glances at him to realize he's staring at her intently, the expression on his face especially unreadable thanks to the mask. Then-

All of a sudden, he reaches up and removes the gas mask, tossing it off to the side without hesitance. She blinks as he straightens up, scythe in hand.

"...Hey, Ray. Follow me there."

"But..." Her gaze follows the discarded protection device. "What about the mask?"

"It hasn't worked for awhile now," he admits to her, shrugging his shoulders. "It's probably busted, so we don't need it."

 _Busted... so it was pointless. Time wasted where we both could've been looking, but- we can't take it back now._ It's just another thing to add to Cathy's list of awful actions, Ray decides.

She trails after Zack to the opening, and he turns to her purposefully. She tilts her head, wondering what's going on in his mind.

"Zack...?"

"Okay- here we go!" he exclaims.

"Huh-?"

Her protest gets caught up in a shocked squeak as he grabs her under her arms, his hands strong and firm— and then she's flying through the air, launched upwards by his strength.

She can't form coherent thought as she flails out to reach the vent, landing half in, half out. She forces herself all the way into it, then turns to stare down at him, her heartbeat irregularly fast for a multitude of reasons.

 _Did- did he just-?_

"Oh!" He looks up at her from below, a wide grin on his hidden face. "Sometimes a little toss is all you need!"

Ray can only gaze at him open-mouthed for a few moments, unable to comprehend his actions or believe that he'd actually thrown her up to the vent, and he waves a hand to draw her out of her stupor.

"Hey! Quit spacin' out and go check it out!" he demands her.

"...Okay," she finally manages.

She turns to face the space, revealing a ripped open vent cover encased in darkness.

 _Didn't I have... that lantern...? But without batteries... oh!_

With a quick flick of her wrist, she's already wedging the batteries out of the remote from earlier, thankful she hadn't left it below somewhere. After changing out for the lantern, she flicks it on and lets it cast a liquid yellow glow around her.

 _It'll work for now. Here goes nothing._

She enters the vent shaft. It's cramped and squeezes in on even her tiny, lithe body. She forces through it though, moving forward until she's forced to stop at a broken dead end, where a cracked hole is. She coughs, feeling the poison coating her lungs at this point, and squints at it.

 _How can I reach inside? Wait... that poker I have... Could that work?_

She withdraws the power from where she'd had it on her belt-loop, and reaches into the dark hole. The poker catches on something, but when she pulls back on it, it refuses to budge.

 _...Can it only turn a certain way when I move it? Maybe this hole is a key in itself..._

A hazy memory resurfaces of the odd instructions given by the dead person after their death, and she decides it can't hurt to give them a try; there's nothing much left to lose.

 _What was it again? Left, down, right, down..._

On her final turn, it clicks successfully, and she feels the poker move in her hand. Something else emerges from the hole— a card key.

Her eyes grow wide despite her aching body and lungs. _This can be used to open the door. If I put this into the machine by the exit, then I'm sure..._

 _I... gotta hurry back..._

 **.x.X.x.**

Zack's waiting for her below, his smile radiant especially when she flashes the card in her hand.

 _I knew there was somethin' up there— thank fuck she found our ticket outta here._

She drops down, and he moves to catch her so she doesn't crash down into the floor below, easily grabbing her from the air and setting her down even though he can feel his body getting harder to function. The girl doesn't weigh much either, light as a feather compared to his strength.

Ray explains what she did inside quietly, and he nods accordingly, pleased by her actions.

"...All we gotta do is put that into the machine by the exit, right?" he clarifies for her when she's finished.

"Yeah, I think so," she replies slowly.

"Okay," he says, cracking his fingers and then gripping his scythe tight. "Then let's do this!"

He starts to walk away from her, but something seems off when he doesn't hear her footsteps following behind like usual. He turns back to see she hasn't moved, her eyes empty and being far more quiet than normal.

 _She doesn't look so good, actually._

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, pausing.

Ray swallows hard in front of him, clearly having difficulty, and moves her gaze up to meet his with exaggerated slowness. He's shocked by the glassiness of her ice-blue eyes, the way she squints at him like he's far away when he's only a few feet from her face.

"...My vision's getting blurry," she admits to him gently.

"Huh?!" Wait, what? He stares at her longer, his own brows pressing together with confusion— until the realization dawns over him, and an ice-cold sweat crawls down his back.

"...Shit, the poison's in your system."

 _This is fuckin' bad. She could die from this... what the hell do I do, though?_

He moves to her side faster than even he realizes somehow, reaching out to her.

"Gimme the card! I just need to put it in, right?!"

She turns her gaze on him, struggling far more than she had been before. Her every move is filled with turtle-like slowness, only proving to bother him further.

 _I'm gettin' affected by the toxic gas stuff too, but I'm a grown ass man with a body built like a tank in comparison. If it's bad for me, then how the hell is she still movin'?_

She hands him the card with a low nod. "Yes... if you would."

 _This is worse than when she was just an emotionless doll; now she's a doll turnin' green with poison, ready to fall over._

His face changes into a severe frown as he tries to figure out what to do, but the only solution he can understand is to simply get them both out of here. It was the goal from the beginning, and it still is— but there's some kind of new fire lighting his urgency the more he sees her like this.

"Hey, move it! Follow me!" he demands, gesturing.

Unable to say much, she trails like a ghost behind his back. He puts haste in his footsteps and rushes over to the card machine. She'd said just to stick it in the slot, right?

He jams the card into it, waiting for it to activate and let them out, trying to force it in. But nothing happens as they stand there with him trying to press it into the hole, and his patience instantly wears thin.

 _Huh? It won't go in..._

He fights with it, pressuring the card to slide into the slot as Ray watches from behind silently. He shouts in anger.

" _Aaaaaaaah!_ Why won't it go _in_?!"

His big fingers struggle with the card, jamming it hard into the slot with frustration, until-

 _Snap._

He goes completely still as he stares down at the card, his lungs refusing to work for a single moment.

... _No goddamn way._

"...Huh?" he says with wide eyes. "...The card fuckin' _bent_."

" _Ahahaha! Get outta town!_ "

That high, grating voice again. It immediately sets Zack's teeth on edge, his irritation flaring just at hearing the high notes of laughter, as Cathy appears on the bunch of screens to his right.

" _To think that you yourself would cause the game to end!_ " she cries amidst giggles. " _Silly Zack! You inserted it the wrong way! I'm laughing so hard, I could die!_ "

He whirls on the television screens, gripping his scythe so tightly in his hand that it threatens to pop the thick bandages around his knuckles clean off.

"Please _do_ die!" he shouts at her, furious. "How 'bout a little _help_ here!? We've come this far, so do us a solid here! _Open it!_ "

He can't believe he's even pleading with the goddamn bitch, but one glance at Ray's enough to tell him the urgency of his situation. Not to mention, the poison is flooding his lungs now, the room becoming a cloudy, toxic mess. It's really starting to bother him, and he wants out _now._

" _...I certainly haven't exacted enough punishment yet,_ " Cathy replies with a smug tap of her finger against her chin, pondering. Then a cocky grin crosses her lips. "Sinners have to follow the rules, right?"

That godforsaken laughter follows, only increasing his urge to rip out her throat.

"Well, it looks like you'll be getting a compulsory game over! I'm afraid there's no choice but to shower you with even _more_ potent poison gas! Did you know poison gas costs a pretty penny? You spoiled sinners, you! Hohoho! Toodles! Have _fun_ writhing in agony!"

His ears are tortured by the sound of her harsh giggling, and he glares at the screen as her image flashes off, the feed cutting out.

"You fuckin' bitch...!" he yells angrily.

 _Just gonna... leave us to fuckin' die like this. When I get my hands on her, I'll snap her in two...!_

"...Zack."

Hearing the familiar calm tones of the girl behind him, he whirls around to face her. Though the room is becoming harder to see in- both from the poison in the air and his own blurring vision- he can see Ray gazing at him intently. Her breathing is shallow and awkward, far worse than his own, but she seems to be thinking hard about something.

"What?!" he barks out.

"You won't keep the promise we made unless you get out of here, right?" she inquires, her voice warbling and uneven but still strong enough to be firm.

 _Seriously, is she really bringin' this up right now?!_ "Aahhh, can we talk about that later?!"

Instead of backing down at his harshness, she stays gazing at him. He's always weirdly unsettled by the way her eyes peer into his, like she doesn't feel a shred of fear no matter how scary he is.

"... _Answer_ me," she says with more force, brows pressed tightly together.

 _What the fuck is she thinking?_ He doesn't understand where her train of thought's stationed at, but it sure as hell ain't their current situation. Why else would she toss out such a stupid topic?

"...That's right!" he spits out, tasting the bitter acidity of the poison on his tongue. "The minimum requirement is me gettin' out alive— so what?!"

Her expression changes enough to baffle him further. "Okay. I'll do everything I can, then. But I'm not sure that it'll work. Is that okay with you?"

 _Wait, she's got some kinda idea?_ With them out of options like this and with the clock on their lifespan ticking away, he's not really opposed to a whole hell of a lot.

"We're as good as dead anyways," he says, the hissing of the poison gas starting to really grind at his nerves. "so do whatcha can!"

He watches her start fiddling with the objects around her purse. She takes out the batteries from the lantern thing she'd had earlier, then starts wrapping them in wire with a rag attached.

 _...What the hell is she doin'?_

"Zack," she says, drawing his attention. She carefully hands him the odd, confusing device with ginger fingers. "Put this on the room's exit. Be careful not to break it."

Not knowing what else to do, he follows her instructions, placing the contraption at the foot of the door.

"...Like this?"

"Yeah." Ray takes a sharp breath. "...If this catches fire, then it'll probably explode."

His eyes bug out of his head with horror. "Whoa, what the?! Whaddaya mean?! But I don't fancy blowin' up!"

She doesn't even flinch under his loud words, nodding her head.

"...That's why we need to find a place to take cover."

 _That's it; I think she's gone officially crazy!_

"Good luck findin' a place like that here!" he snorts.

"...I know of one," she says, to his shock. "It's a bit of a tight squeeze though. Even a big, husky-built guy like you could probably fit..."

He gapes at her, but his mind's already spinning with the brief possibility that her idea might save their hides.

"Spare me the details! We just need to fit in there, right?!"

She sets the weird thing she crafted to activate, then she jogs toward the back of the room- and like a light bulb flashing through his mind, he realizes what she's planning.

 _...That big fuckin' safe from before!_

He doesn't even need her to tell him. Zack runs over to it and slides into it, the thing just big enough for him with some room to spare even with the scythe by his side. Ray nearly hesitates at the door, but he doesn't waste time, knowing they've probably got seconds before either the gas tries to kill them or her bomb does.

Grabbing her wrist, Zack pulls her into the safe with him, her body wedged tightly between his own and the other side. He swings shut the safe door and encases them in darkness.

For a second there's only silence, broken by the two of them and their ragged, shallow breathing. He's pinned uncomfortably into the safe with this blonde girl trapped against him, her head practically stuck against his chest being so short and his scythe poised above their heads like a makeshift guillotine. The air inside is warm and musty, and the entire situation immediately sets his nerves on edge for some reason.

Then, with a powerful bang, he hears-, no he _feels_ that bomb explode out there. The entire safe shakes with the impact, and he finds himself gripping her shoulders as her body trembles under the force, pressing them both back toward the rear of the safe. The metal behind him grows painfully hot as the air around them ignites outside, the gas lighting up with brightness to rival 4th of July fireworks.

 _Whatever she did must've worked._

The acrid stench of poison gas mixed with smoke slowly starts to dissipate, and he finds the hot inside of the safe and being so cramped up becoming unbearable quicker with each passing second. Finally, he can't take it anymore, and he flings open the safe door with little resistance.

"... _Shit,_ it's _hot!_ I'm gettin' out!"

He nearly falls out of the safe upon exiting, and he almost welcomes the burnt, ashy scent compared to the sickly toxic gas from before. As he regains his bearings, his eyes wash over the room with fascination.

The entire area is charred and blackened. The walls are covered in soot and ash, and the floor under his feet kicks up dirt and still-warm burnt objects. If he hadn't seen the room before now, he wouldn't know what half the shit around him even is. Even the body has been left a nasty dark lump on the gross floor.

"...You freakin' serious?" he utters with a half smile, more than pleased with the outcome— especially when he sees the wide, bright opening where the door had been before illuminating the room.

 _I don't know how she did it, but her little invention sure did a shit ton of good._ Just thinking about her actually putting together a bomb like that boggles his mind, but he's not gonna complain now. _If I get a little fresh air in me, I'll be fine in no time!_

He hears the safe door creak open behind him, and he turns to see Ray getting out of it cautiously, bracing herself on it- until it snaps off under her hand and clatters loudly to the floor by her feet. He can't help his major grin at seeing her.

"Hey! Good to see you alive!" he says gleefully. "If the exit's open now, let's get the hell outta here!"

She nods at him, and they head out past the charred remnants of the room and into the light. It's practically blinding at first after the dimness they'd been stuck with earlier, and he has to shield his eyes for a second so they can adjust and take in a deep breath— then he whoops happily.

"We finally made it outta that shitty room!" he declares with a laugh, waving his scythe triumphantly. "Pfffft, I'd be surprised if that bitch had any idea that would happen!"

While he's enjoying the sweet air of victory, he notices that Ray's even quieter than she'd been before, and he glances back at her. His celebration cuts a bit short when he notices how pale she's become, even paler than her usual ghost white.

"Hey, hang in there," he says, his voice dropping a bit as he looks at her.

 _I'm already feelin' a bit better, since my body can take that stuff better than most, but... shit, she looks bad._

"Okay..." she says, her voice barely audible. "Did I... do good?"

He stares at her with bewilderment. The question seems so ridiculous to ask that he takes a minute to think about it.

"...Fuck, girl. You blew the entire place to frickin' kingdom come, you know?" he says, adjusting his hoodie- then he smiles at her. "You sure showed her!"

 _If you hadn't 'done good', we wouldn't be standin' here right now._

Her eyes seem to light up for just a moment, before dimming again. "...I see."

He frowns then, tapping the bottom of his scythe against the ground. "...Hey. We made it this far, don't go dyin' on me now!"

 _The hell am I supposed to do if you die?_

Zack hates to dare admit this even to himself, but seeing her like this is just... a tiny bit... a _super_ tiny bit concerning. Not that he couldn't make it without her somehow if he had to; fuck, he was on the streets on his own for a long time figuring out how to live. But... For some stupid reason, he'd rather she didn't just die from something as pathetic as this. It's his job to kill her after all, like she's been harping on and on about.

He watches her small frame shudder for a moment, and then she forces herself to stand taller, nodding her head. "Alright. ...I'm fine."

 _Like hell you are._ She might be trying to put on a brave face, but her expression says it all for her without having to even utter a word.

"What're you sayin'?" he demands. "That look on your face says otherwise."

"I'm fine," she says with a bit more strength in her voice. "Don't worry about me..."

... _God dammit!_ Nothing's worse than actually feeling a little worried for her, and her trying to play off how she feels like she's superhuman.

He angrily sends his fingers through his hair, ruffling his black bangs with irritation, and she tilts her head to look at him strangely for his reaction.

"...Alright," he finally relents, turning his back on her for now. "Let's get movin'. I can't have you dyin' on me, but we gotta keep goin'."

"I know. I'm fine... I can walk," she replies, and he has to resist from snapping at her.

 _You ain't fine, but if you wanna pretend, then go ahead._

He leads her to the door they'd tried earlier, and when he attempts to open it this time, it's thankfully unlocked. As he starts to push it ajar, he hears Cathy's godforsaken soprano laugh echo around him.

" _I'm a little surprised you got out of that predicament!_ " she says through hidden speaks— which, if he could see them, he'd hack them to bits to avoid hearing her talk. " _Hehehe, incredible! I hate to admit it, but you deserve props! As a bonus, I've opened up the door!_ "

God, he really just wants to shove his scythe down her throat.

"That was the deal from the start! _Duh!_ " he grumbles.

Her only response is giggling, and then the feed cuts off again. He can't prevent himself from letting his rage urge him to kick open the door out of spite.

"Stupid, belittling bitch...!" he scowls.

He steps through the entryway, which leads into a stupidly long hallway. He wanders inside a little ways, his footsteps seeming pretty loud around him for some reason.

His own steps are loud, but Ray's... are nonexistent behind him.

Zack turns back to look at her, finding her moving even slower somehow than she'd been. It's both irritating and concerning at the same time, and he awkwardly pipes up.

"Hey..."

She raises a brow at him curiously, as if nothing's wrong, and he decides against whatever the hell he was gonna say first, letting his mouth run on instead.

"There's no tellin' what's beyond here," he says. "So try to stay close."

"...I'll do what I can," she answers.

Biting back a retort, he starts heading down the hallway again, and out of curiosity he glances back at her once more. He's met with the sight of her slowly shambling along far behind him, barely making any progress to keep up, with her hand pressed against the hallway for balance.

"...Can you not walk any faster?" he asks, though he's lost the will to urge her on.

Ray doesn't even bother to respond, and he realizes that she looks two seconds away from passing out right in front of him.

 _This isn't gonna work. She's no good if she can't even function, and all she's doin' is givin' me a weird headache._

"...Hey," he presses her, and she weakly shakes her head.

"I'm fine."

Doubting her entirely, he tries to make a little more headway down the hall, barely entering this small alcove in the middle— and when he sees her barely inching along, he feels his frustration rising.

 _Why doesn't she just fuckin' admit she can't go on right now?!_

"Awwwww man!" he complains. "We're never gonna get anywhere at this pace!"

"...Keep going?" she suggests, and he can hardly believe his ears.

 _Is she serious right now?_ They'd barely make it through the floor in the next twenty-four hours like this!

"I'd like to if possible," he says, crossing his arms and letting his scythe lean over his shoulder like an old friend. "But I'd just get stuck somewhere if I went by myself."

'It's okay. I can walk," she says, taking a small step forward, and he observes her wobbling with just that tiny action. He sighs.

"Sure you won't pass out and die on me?" he asks dryly.

She blinks at him, those dark emotionless eyes meeting his.

"...I'll do my best," she murmurs.

He can feel his annoyance growing just by dealing with her, and he lets out an irritated breath. "Whaddaya mean, 'do your best'? If you die, that won't mean shit! Sure, death is _your_ wish and all, but what about mine? It won't be granted if you kick the bucket!"

In all honesty, he's grasping at various straws to get her to admit her weakness, but he's not lying when he speaks. He's twenty years old and he never depended on anyone, not for anything— but here he is now, forced to rely on a girl years younger than him to save his skin.

Ray seems to fully register his words, and draws in a trembling breath before nodding, coming to terms with something. "Yeah, you're right...Then I need to do even better from now on..."

 _You're ready to keel over on me, and you're just sayin' you need to 'do better'? What the hell?_

"Man, you're bright, though you always just repeat yourself like some sort of pull-string doll," he comments, exhaling.

She gazes at him questioningly. "...What should we do?"

He's starting to get tired that question. Zack blows a gust of air through his lips.

"Just shut up while you're ahead," he snaps. "You're _human_ , right? Think for yourself."

A thick silence ensues, the two of them staring each other down. His eyes are full of fire, whereas her emotionless gaze gives him chills. How someone's eyes can be so empty and lack any kind of liveliness beats him, but if she's pretending to be dead from the inside out, she's doing a hell of a good job.

She seems to think hard about something, before she finally responds to him, her quiet shaky voice filling the hall.

"...If you can wait for a bit, the dizziness should go away," she tells him.

 _Finally._ At least now she's admitting she feels like shit. He takes that as his cue to cut her a little bit of slack.

Without saying anything, he turns and glances around at the area they're in. The hall has the small, offside alcove, and he walks over to it, glancing along the walls above his head for any signs of those intrusive cameras.

 _None of them are over here, so it should be good._

"Hey," he says, beckoning her, and she sluggishly moves close to him, out of sight of the other cameras around the hall.

"...The cameras can't see us here," he says, crossing his arms and leaning back against the stiff wall behind him. "I'll wait here, so hurry up."

For a moment— just a brief, brief moment that he honestly thinks he imagines— he catches a glimpse of something in that ever-so-blank face. It might've been relief, before becoming expressionless again.

"...Okay," she says tiredly.

Ray stumbles over to the wall and slides down it gently, dropping to the floor slowly and then pulling her knees up to her chest. Leaning her head against them, he watches her fade unconscious in a matter of moments, her breathing evening out and growing less tense and shallow.

Deciding now's as good a time as any to get comfortable, Zack sits down too, leaning his scythe over his shoulder easily and draping an arm over his knee. Even he's feeling the strong effects of that poison, and how it crashed his system. Any longer in that bitch's lil gas chamber, and he really would've died.

He can't stop peeking over at Ray, though. Her frame looks even tinier somehow than it usually does, if that's even possible. Hell, if he didn't know that there was signs of life in her, she'd really look like some kind of human-sized doll.

 _Man, she looks even more ghost-like and doll-like when she's asleep,_ he thinks, scanning over her figure. He's gotta admit, the kid's almost cute, but she might as well be a figurine of a real person. Blonde, long hair falling over her shoulders, thin arms wrapped protectively around her legs, and those strangely piercing blue eyes that sometimes barely show that she's still human.

 _It's nice that she does what she's told, but always answerin' with a 'yeah' or 'yes'— is she a robot? How dull._

He couldn't've asked for a better brainiac to tag along with him, someone who does exactly as he commands, but... in a way, he almost wishes she'd perk up, or do something that seems normal other than following orders. A mental image of back on Eddie's floor, when she'd tried to smile for him, blasts through his thoughts, and he shakes his head to get rid of it.

Why does he even care? Not like it matters in the long run. Once he's out of here, when he can taste that fresh air and see the sun again, he'll kill her— and then she'll just be a part of his past like everyone else, insignificant. Just as she wants.

...So why does he just feel so weird thinking about it? And why the hell is he _worrying_ over her right now, over if she might wake up or not from the poison? It's _not his problem_ ; girl or no, he'll get out, though she definitely fixes his problems like a cheat sheet sometimes. He made it years without depending on anyone.

... _Fuck me, what the hell is going on?_ It's pissing him off now knowing why he bothers with her. He needs her to survive, but why does that feel like an excuse?

Zack runs a hasty hand through his hair, growling under his breath as he gazes holes into her. Nothing makes sense, and he can't even understand his own train of thought right now- and it's all her fault.

 _I'm just wonderin' why I'm gettin' so bent outta shape over all of this._

A somewhat more logical conclusion enters his mind, something he clings to easily. _The poison... right. Maybe that's why nothin' I'm thinkin' about is makin' any sense. It's messin' with my mind thanks to that prim little witch behind the scenes._

His gaze flashes back to Ray, and he frowns, before settling further into his spot, letting out a deep breath.

 _...There's no use in thinkin' of pointless shit like this. I'll also take it easy for a bit._

Knowing there's not much else he can do right now, Zack closes his eyes and allows himself to slip into a restless sleep.

 **.x.X.x.**

 _He knows it's dangerous to be here, but that doesn't stop him from listening in anyway._

 _Hovering around the hallway corner, quiet as a mouse, the young boy leans into the tattered, peeling wall, and eavesdrops in on the conversation in the room nearby._

 _"Hey, you know that kid that got here this month?" A familiar, yet cold voice asks. "I smelled somethin' foul, so went to check it out and he's dead as a doorknob."_

 _A second voice replies, this one easily eliciting a sense of hatred in the young boy just by speaking alone. "Oh, is that right?"_

 _"Err... so what do we do about it?"_

 _There's a pause as the second person seems to be considering something, and the boy hears the strained notes of voices coming from the TV screen within, the light casting shadows around him._

 _"...Bury it in the yard."_

 _"Again?" There's traces of disgust this time. "You sure that's okay?"_

 _"Nobody's gonna come lookin' for a kid they dumped off here as chicken feed," the second reassures nonchalantly._

 _The first clears their throat. "...But I can't stand it. Touching something decomposed is gross."_

 _"Listen to how selfish you sound," the other says with a snicker, and the young boy's fists ball up at his sides, fighting the urge to speak— and then his throat closes up a moment later at his words._

 _"...Ah, that reminds me. Is that other kid still alive?_ _That_ _kid. The one that looks like a disfigured monster with burns."_

 _As the boy grinds his teeth in the hall, the first replies._

 _"Oh, him? Yep— still alive and kicking. Nobody's been feedin' him either; must be foraging for scraps or something. The whole thing makes my skin crawl, to be frank."_

 _"Hey," the second says mirthfully, like he's come up with the greatest idea. "We should just let_ _him_ _bury the dead kid. Let one kid take care of the other."_

 _...What? For a moment, the boy's breath halts completely, his entire body tensing up at those words. Unwanted images flash through his mind of that scene... Of those actions._

 _Glassy eyes, rotting skin, the scent of decay and blood mixed wiith soil... Of how his brain seemed to shut down the first time he was forced to do it._

 _"That's an option," says the first._

 _"I tried it out once before," the second says with a chuckle. "He just silently buried the body."_

 _"Oh really?"_

 _"It's perfect, right? The less scraps that are left, the less the garbage stinks. Plus we're shorthanded— who'd have thought keeping a monster alive would be so handy? It's like a tool of sorts; a role_ _befitting_ _a monster, as it were."_

 _"Yeah, sounds good to me."_

 _The boy silently raises his hands before him. They're dirt-encrusted, covered in messy bandages, with browned, mottled skin showing through the hastily wrapped gauze._

 _...The sign of a monster, they all say._

 _"Well, consider our problem solved," says the second, the creak of a couch following as he settles into his favorite seat before the TV. "It's movie time for me- and don't give me hell for it this time."_

 _The first groans. "Gross. It's that splatter horror flick that you're obsessed with, right?"_

 _"I'm in love with that movie. The scene where those upbeat morons get slaughtered always gives me a kick."_

 _"You're sick, you know that? I can't stand that movie. The killer doesn't even die at the end. Seriously, can you please not watch that? Didn't you leave the house with it playing the other day?"_

 _"I'm gonna watch it whether you like it or not. Now go have him take care of that corpse!"_

 _The sounds of the first's footsteps hastily walking away causes the boy to move. He already knows that they'll come looking for him soon, to dispose of another one of their messes._

 _His body is filled with the desire to hurt them. His hatred of them— of everyone— is consuming, like the flames that once engulfed his body._

 _Zack hates them so much, he'll make them pay for what they've done. Everyone will get what's coming to them._

 _Someday... someday_ _soon._

 **.x.X.x.**

Ray wakes slowly, groggy and disoriented— momentarily confused by her surroundings until her bleary blue eyes land on Zack nearby.

 _...Of course. I remember._

If the dismal hallway wasn't telltale enough, the aching through her body explains quite a lot. The memory of how the poison had made her limbs like lead, and her lungs work extremely hard to keep her alive.

 _I felt... near death, at the time, but I kept trying to push on. But Zack..._

She must've disappointed him. That's the only reason she can logically conclude for why he had such a strange expression before. At first, she nearly thought he seemed worried for her, but that couldn't be possible.

 _If I had died to Cathy's poison, I wouldn't have been able to keep my side of our promise..._ He must've been angry, thinking that she would succumb to the effects instead of waiting for him to kill her.

Ray tests out her movements, finding she's no longer sluggish. Though her stomach aches from lack of food and her sleep was far from comfortable, compared to before she'd rested it's definitely a better situation. Now she knows, positively, that she won't die of that poison. The effects haven't completely worn away, but this is handleable now.

The girl gets to her feet very carefully, finding her legs to be much more cooperative thankfully. She honestly can barely remember what happened after they'd exited the gas room; stumbling down the hallway, Zack's annoyed complaints, and that comment he made to her.

 _"Just shut up while you're ahead. You're_ _human,_ _right? Think for yourself!"_

 _Human..._ why does that seem like such a far reach for someone like her? Has she really disconnected from herself so much that she can barely think of herself as human?

...But, the reasons for it are solid. She cannot undo what's already been done, and now she can only wait for the messy embrace of death Zack will give her soon.

Speaking of Zack...

Ray glances over his prone form. It's a bit startling seeing the difference between the resting Zack, and the conscious one. This side of him seems much less angry and stubborn, so much calmer. His chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, and his head is leaning toward his upright knee. Even while asleep, he has a hand protectively around the handle of his scythe, and his expression isn't contorted or sneering, or grinning wide with that sadistic smile he loves to wear. Instead, for this fleeting moment he almost seems... peaceful, through the mask of bandages he dons. Softer. Like a whole new person, if she didn't know better, with his black bangs hanging low to cover half his face.

That expression suddenly melts away into one akin to disgust, and he winces in his sleep, his fingers wrapping taut over his weapon though he's still clearly asleep. Her brows knit together with concern.

 _Is Zack... having a nightmare?_

"...Zack," she finally calls out, standing directly in front of him. Seeing him like that bothers her, and rousing him seems the best option. " _Zack_..."

Slowly, the tenseness in his body disappears, and his eyes peek open, blearily focusing on her. The gold and brown irises begin to clear after a moment.

"...Huh?" he mumbles.

"...You up?" she gently asks.

For a moment, the boy stares at her. His expression is unreadable, and he opens his mouth like he has something to say, but then quickly closes it again. Though she doubts he's truly awake, he picks himself up to his feet, shaking himself out of the fitful rest he'd been having.

He still seems to be acting odd, so she very softly calls him again. "...Zack?"

His eyes... something about them seems different. They're almost... haunted, by something, but the slight glimpse she catches disappears long before she can make sense of it.

Zack peers at her, before opening his mouth again.

"...Can you walk?"

She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. I feel quite refreshed, actually."

 _He must be ready to get going already. I've kept him in one spot for too long..._

His mouth curls distastefully, and he leans his scythe against his shoulder, his eyes shifting away.

"In that case, let's get a move on. Because of you, I saw somethin' sickening."

Ray raises a brow in questioning, not understanding his meaning, but he starts down the hall without any further explanation.

 _...Something sickening?_ She's not particularly sure what that's supposed to mean, but whatever it was must've really bothered him. If she ever manages to figure out what it was, she'll promptly apologize for it.

The two wander down to the end of the hall, where another barred metal door stands in their path. Ray's companion doesn't waste time by kicking it open, and it easily swings wide, revealing an incredibly dark corridor.

There's something about it that seems familiar—the drab olive-colored walls and the metal floor beneath their feet, and that musty scent that cloyingly fills her lungs.

Overhead, static comes through the intercom system, and Cathy's voice follows after with one of her gleeful giggles.

" _Hey, since you're here, I thought I'd extend my offer once more. Are you sure eternal imprisonment doesn't strike your fancy?_ "

Zack steps forward and glares at the nearest camera, aimed directly at them.

"...I told you I'm sure as _fuckin' rain!_ Get off my back about it, you bitch! Quit actin' like it's some _paradise_ or somethin'— I know very well what kinda miserable existence you're offerin'. So _back off!_ "

" _Awww... no takers,_ " she intones with faux disappointment. " _You don't wish to be playthings for my amusement?_ "

The noiret narrows his eyes. "...Huh?"

Another piercing laugh overhead.

" _I refer to you when I say_ _playthings_ _. I mean, seeing the both of you together is just comical! You made some odd promise with each other, no?_ "

Her voice grows sharper, like a double-edged sword, and her words are meant to cut them down to size.

" _...Precarious promises which are mere acts of pushing your selfish agendas upon one another. While it appears you have mutual interests on the surface, in actuality— you are merely playing one another. But the question is; who's really playing whom?_ "

Ray watches him grip tighter on the handle of his blade, and he takes a menacing step forward. She can tell by the change in his voice how angry he's becoming.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

" _Oh, listen to me prattle on... Not getting through, am I? Of course I'm not; you're sinners for a reason._ "

There's a beat of silence as Ray ponders the woman's words. Filled with malicious intent and the aim of getting under Zack's skin,.. It's even frustrating for her, somehow. The more Cathy tries to get a rise out of him, the more Ray dislikes her.

Still, they plant the tiniest seed of concerning doubt in the back of her mind, and it does trouble her— that word. _Playthings._

 _Is that... what we really are?_

" _Such typical sinners~! I love it!_ " Cathy cackles on. " _Oh, and that foolish girl is quite the cutie, isn't she, Zack? Well, I hope you continue to have fun getting punished!"_

The transmission cuts out, the master of the floor having said her final word for the time being, and Ray feels the slightest tinge of relief, though not for long.

Finally unable to keep reins on his temper, Zack strides forward and raises his scythe— then cleaves the camera right off the wall with one fell swoop of the blade. The equipment drops to the floor with a harsh buzzing sound, and he crushes it under his shoe without mercy.

"...It's you who's stupid," he mumbles to himself, seeming even more annoyed than he was before. His heterochromatic eyes stare down at the broken camera. "...Playthings... Damn... I feel like I'm gonna puke."

Ray gazes at him a moment, wondering if he's alright. She can't tell well with the bandages that encase his frame, but his expression is... "Zack...?"

"Don't talk to me right now," he harshly cuts her off, not looking her direction. "...Let's go."

He walks away, and she gazes after him thoughtfully. He really does seem irritated right now, so it's best if she doesn't pry into him about it. Still, he's acting especially upset...

She quickly follows his footsteps, staying quiet and letting him lead them down the winding hall. They pass a gate that looks somewhat familiar, and she wonders if it might've been the original fork in the path they'd chosen against.

 _The choice of eternal imprisonment, she'd said._

They continue on, and Ray begins noticing the cells on either side of her. They're scarily dark, so much so that she can't see what's within- until a noise makes her stop in her tracks.

Zack glances back at her when she hasn't moved, and frowns. "What's wrong?"

It couldn't have been, right? But...

"...I think I heard some sort of voice," she tells him.

He gives her an odd look, which makes her question her own sense of hearing. _Maybe that's not what it was. It sounded close by, though..._

They continue on, and the stench of something disgusting and rotten permeates the air around them the further they go. It's enough to make a normal person gag, but Rachel swallows down the urge, even as Zack swears under his breath with repulsion.

They turn another corner, and she hears it again. The odd, moan-like noises of what might be a human being. It gives her such a start that Zack turns on her, showing his annoyance.

"Hey, what gives?" he demands.

"...Voices..." she replies certainly, and something flashes along his face.

 _I know that's what I heard. Are there people in here, then...?_

Another corner, and they begin to pass another set of jail cells. As she steps in front of it, a rather loud groan issues from within. Her brows knit together.

... _Again._

Suddenly, right by her feet, something grotesque reaches out from the jail cell. It's covered in decay and thin as a stick, but it moves with barely any urgency— making her realize it looks like a human hand, the fingertips barely scraping at the ground. From inside, a voice becomes barely clearer, a low guttural sound of despair.

Startled, she jumps backwards out of reach, knocking into Zack. He grabs her shoulder steadily, shifting his scythe to his free hand.

"Huh? What's wrong?" he asks, already glancing over her shoulder to see.

"...Something resembling a human hand is moving," she mumbles, and he tenses.

"...A _haaaand?_ "

He moves to examine it, and a low, humorless chuckle escapes his throat.

"One of the bitch's prison victims, huh?" he snorts.

Without a moment of hesitation, Zack moves forward and stomps down on it, and the sound of crushing bone and flesh issues out, followed by a cry of anguish and pain from the cell. When he steps off, the hand is left a shattered, bloodied mess on the floor, remnants of bone left within the decay, and the scent of rot becomes stronger.

"It's in such shitty shape that its body crumbles just by steppin' on it. This happened 'cause he chose that eternal imprisonment offer that bitch mentioned." " the noiret comments, leaning his weapon over his shoulder and glancing at her, before lightly kicking the remains. "...This guy's more worthless than tits on a fuckin' bull. Looks like there's people even dumber than me!"

His words may be true, but somewhere in Ray's chest she feels a pang of something. She looks within the iron bars, trying to catch a glimpse of the person lying forgotten within the confines, but it sounds as if their groans have stopped joining the chorus around them.

"Hey, don't mess with it," Zack urges her. "It's already dead."

 _...Already dead..._

"...it's not alive," she murmurs flatly, and he raises a brow as if she's spouted nonsense.

"Huh? You _think?_ Let's get outta here! We've wasted enough time on this bullshit!"

She risks another glance into the cell, and then nods. "...Okay."

He heads off again, but Ray stays back for just a moment to gaze into the deep, abyss-like cell that the hand belonged to.

 _So this is the fate that awaited if I had chosen eternal imprisonment._

In a way, she's glad she hadn't chosen it. This would've been a death far too long to wait for. Besides, the promise of Zack killing her later on still holds weight as far as she knows. That would be a far better death.

 _If we fail the trials ahead, will we end up here? Or perhaps we'll just die instead?_

It's hard to say, judging by how the past have been, but the chances of it keep rising the further they go. Yet, she chooses to keep going. She has to help Zack escape from this place.

 _Whatever the final trials are, we'll face them. I'll do whatever it takes to get us out of here, in order for him to kill him. That's my only mission._

Her icy eyes gaze holes into the darkness, and she takes a breath.

 _Is this the fate... of Cathy's playthings?_

 _...Will we end up as her toys?_

* * *

A/N: Lightly edited.

Everyone, hey. Sorry the update is... so late. I have unfortunate reasoning for this, however. **Currently, I no longer have internet at my home, which makes updating, well... impossible, to be frank.** I've been working on the novelization still, but I... **I'm afraid updates are on sporadic scheduling until I have regular permanent internet again.** I'm so sorry.

But thank you for the people still favoriting, commenting, following it even when I can't respond to the lovely reviews and such I've been getting! It makes me so happy, you can't imagine! This novelization means far more to me than I thought, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope this chapter is good enough! I can't wait to catch up with the anime, haha.

Anyways, thank you for reading this. Keep reading on.


	10. Blood-covered Sinners

_Oh, dear._

It doesn't take more than a glance to explain what exactly lies before them, in the third trial that awaits the two supposed criminals.

The moment that Ray and Zack enter the room, the glint of metal and the mixed scent of blood along with something cloying and rough hits them. A few steps inside, and the entirety of the area becomes crystal clear:

A room filled with spikes.

Sharp, razor-edged pointed blades jut out from deep pits in the floor. The platform they stand on is connected to a rickety, rather broken and mangled bridge that doesn't look like it'll hold for much longer, and there are various platforms around the room- far too placed apart to be safe for someone normal to simply jump across.

Approaching the bridge carefully, Ray glances down into the pit below. It seems to stretch out along the room, broken up by the sparsely placed lifted platforms and half hidden in the limited light. Patches of blood here and there indicate that someone must've tried making their way across before.

"it's dark and barely visible, but the floor looks deadly," Zack comments, peering over her shoulder.

Before she can answer, the now-familiar sound of a static transmission fill the air around them. Their gazes are drawn far across the room, where a TV screen that had been camouflaged in the shadows comes to life.

"Greetings!" Cathy giggles, and her image appears on screen. She twiddles her fingers around the riding crop in her hand, her green eyes glimmering noticeably even from this far. "Welcome, kids! Congratulations on making it this far! As you can see, make one wrong step and you'll fall to your spiky demise!"

Her laughter erupts from her throat with glee as she continues. "But... it's actually not as bad as I make it out to be. There are just two paths; yep, the path for each just winds up in a slightly different place, that's all. Which path you take is entirely up to you!"

Ray can feel herself growing colder just by hearing the woman's words, and Zack is strung tight as taut wire by her side, barely holding silent.

 _Though she says these things, there must be a catch._

"Well, punishment awaits beyond here as well though, right? Anyways, which will it be? There are two of you, after all. Isn't it about time to end this silly charade? You and your _childish promises—_ it's laughable. _I_ think it's an unfair promise... considering you will die anyway."

Her wide, eerily pleased grin sets Ray's teeth on edge. She can't put her finger on why, but somehow, Cathy's words are able to get under her skin, just a little. Not to mention, every time she mocks the vow that Zack had made with her, it makes her skin crawl.

"Enough about that!" The irritatingly high-pitched voice dismisses her thoughts with a light chuckle. "In _this_ room anyways, the both of you won't be taking the same path! Best of luck; I'm waiting to see who gets condemned first!"

The transmission cuts out, and the screen goes dark, fading into the background once again. Once the silence returns, Zack breaks it again, ruffling the hair peeking out of his hoodie.

"Shit, why's she gotta make everything so tedious?" he grumbles angrily. "When the hell can I get outta here? _Aaah_ , gotta keep my cool... That stupid cackling bitch, I wanna chop her to bits so bad..."

Ray glances at him, her mind whirling with thought. She doesn't understand why Cathy enjoys tormenting and toying with them so much. What does she stand to gain from these things besides amusement? Or maybe that's truly all she wants... her sinners to dance along with her to the music she chooses.

 _Zack really looks annoyed, too... Talking about killing her so easily. Hopefully he'll make sure to kill me, too, after it's over._

He catches her eyes on him, and narrows his own.

"Hey! What are you still spacin' out for?"

"...After you take care of that woman, be sure to kill me too once we're out." she responds coolly.

Two beats pass before he throws a hand in the air with an eyeroll to follow, shaking his head.

"Fuck! Man, you got a one track mind!"

She levelly stares at him. "...You don't seem willing to kill me, after all."

Zack looks taken aback by her statement, like she's spoken something she shouldn't, before thinking something over quickly and huffing.

"It's 'cause of that vacant look of yours! Oh, and my promise to you is not good until after we get outta here!" he replies, and she sighs.

"...I'm aware."

"Do somethin' about that vacant doll-faced stare of yours in the meantime," he demands, "And while you're at it, stop askin' me stupid shit, got it?"

Ray frowns at him. "...But..."

He slides the scythe over his shoulder and throws her a sideways glance.

"A promise's a promise... Quit orderin' me around so much."

 _...He's right._

His words jostle her back into a familiar state of mind, and though she's still perturbed by Cathy, she feels a bit calmer somehow. With his statement, she feels like the promise holds more weight.

"...Okay. I'm sorry," she replies, eyes growing a little softer.

Zack gazes at her for a moment, his expression becoming even harder to read than usual beneath his mask of bandages, before he glances away.

"...Let's get goin'," he mumbles in return.

The two of them face the unsafe-seeming bridge that lies before them. The ropes holding it in place look frayed and weak, like they've been here for quite some time.

 _This must be the way forward. We'll have to tread lightly._

Ray steps onto the bridge, but as her weight settles onto the passage, it creaks with warning, making her withdraw the action worriedly.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Zack inquires from right behind her.

She turns to look his way. "This rope bridge could snap at any moment. I'm not sure it's sturdy enough for me, let alone the both of us..."

He toys with his weapon irritably, displeased.

"Huh?! There's no point unless we both get outta here!"

 _He's right about that. If he can't escape with me, then he can't kill me. We have to find another way._

"...Damn," she swears. "How about we look elsewhere?"

Her gaze flickers down the platform they stand upon, and she trails along it until she reaches where it abruptly comes to a halt. A gap stands between her and the next one, a jump most likely too far away to make normally.

"Looks like we can make it if we jump," Zack comments as if reading her thoughts, and she gives him a dubious brow raise.

"Jump? That far...? I'll never make it."

One look is enough for him to realize she's right.

"...Awwww, _shit_. Alright— want me to chuck you over then?" he offers, and her skepticism only grows. Her memory of being recklessly thrown in the gas room is still all-too fresh.

"...Can you repeatedly fling me over to the other side?" she asks.

Zack scans the dim path ahead of them, as if pondering the outcome.

"...Well, if I screw up, then you'll fall head first," he notes. "Flingin' you is a cinch, the problem is I can't control how hard I throw you."

His nonchalance about it proves only to discomfort her further. She shakes her head. "...In that case, let's not."

Shrugging his shoulders, he concedes. Instead, they traverse the rest of the area for another route, but they find nothing to help them. Finally, Zack turns to her with frustration in his bi-colored eyes.

"Hey, what's the plan? We're gettin' nowhere fast," he says, his mouth thinly twisting.

The option that lies before them isn't one she particularly enjoys or approves of, but seeing the routes ahead of them, there's only one choice to be made. Ray brushes her long blonde bangs from her face and speaks.

"..We've no choice but to split up," she says gravely.

His eyes grow wide. "Huh?! Will we make it if we do that?!"

"...I'm not sure," she murmurs quietly, and his eyes flash.

"'Not sure'? What the hell happens if we die?!" he exclaims fiercely, but she only tilts her head.

"...What happens?" she repeats.

 _I die, and it all ends. That's what happens, isn't it?_

Zack watches the expression on her face change slightly, and he seems to realize he said something silly. He exhales loudly.

"Aaah, _fine._ Sorry for askin' somethin' so dumb," he grumbles, then whips away from her, waving a hand toward the bridge.

"...Let's move!"

Ray watches him walk away from her, toward the wide gap he'd wanted to toss her over, and with a quick running leap, he makes the large jump with a little bit of stumbling, disappearing out of her view.

 _I guess he's made his decision on where to go. I need to get going too, then, if we're going to meet at the end._

Knowing that he's already making his way to the other side, she starts across the bridge, and her brows furrow at the way it creaks and bends under her. She knows she's not as light as a feather, but she's also not very heavy either— meaning this bridge is even more old and unsafe as she'd assumed.

 _I'd barely make it across..._

Suddenly, there's a strange click to her left. Her eyes widen, and she twists her head around to see something hard to make out sliding out of the wall.

... _A gun!_

She barely dives back to the steady platform before the gun fires where she'd stood, the bullet whizzing past amidst the sound and scent of gunpowder. Breathing hard, she picks herself up off the ground where she'd fallen and stares out across the bridge. This trek would be a bit more dangerous than she'd thought, as well.

 _I've got no choice but to cross and make sure not to get shot..._

She risks another glance in Zack's vanished direction, before steeling herself for what's ahead— and then running through.

Sprinting across the unsteady bridge, she hears more than one gun slip out and train on her, the click of them readying to fire putting haste into her steps. She ducks under the path of one gun, realizing that they seem to be rooted to one spot— dodgeable if she's quick enough, and she won't be followed by it.

Using this to her advantage, she keeps herself going, not focusing on the harsh, eardrum-rattling sounds of bullets flying inches behind her. Instead, she runs from platform to platform, finding a couple more bridges akin to the first that barely hold her when she jogs through, threatening to snap under her every movement.

Finally, she stops on a final platform, and she recognizes the big TV screen that Cathy had broadcasted herself onto earlier. The gunfire also seems to have stopped, and she straightens up enough to look around, thankful she made it through.

 _I somehow made it..._

Another pressing thought imprints itself into her mind, and her eyes strain to catch sight of Zack anywhere, her next concern being his whereabouts considering he's not with her.

 _...Zack...?_

She edges closer to the side of the floor, noting there's another platform on the other side of a still-uncrossable gap— and realizes that the TV screen seems to be displaying something she hadn't noticed before. She peers closer, noting that it's in split-screen mode; showcasing _her_ , surprisingly, and...

 _What's this? Zack and I are shown on the screen?_

 **.x.X.x.**

 _Hey, another gun...?_

The hooded boy glares out into the darkness, trying to use his sharp hearing for more of the raucous and distinct sounds of gunshots. He'd been ready to make some progress ahead through the bitch's little funhouse room, but the disturbing noises of guns firing where Ray'd been stopped him in his tracks.

The first one made him stop, but by the time he heard at least four or five, he felt his gut turn cold with the thought. He replaced the possible concern with anger instead, gripping his scythe tight.

 _Hope she's not gettin' any ideas about gettin' herself killed..._

Still, he hesitates to move forward, especially at the sudden silence. For some godforsaken reason, he keeps imagining making it to the other end and finding her bloody corpse lying on the other side somewhere. It makes him want to fucking hurl just thinking about it.

In honesty, he didn't want to separate from Ray, especially knowing how trigger-happy little miss master-of-the-floor could be considering the last stupid ass 'punishments' he'd dealt with. Fuck, he can _still_ feel the volts of electricity flooding his veins...

...And see Ray's pale, clammy face left weak with poison.

 _Aww man..._ The noiret tenses up easily, his ire for Cathy beginning to shine through again, barely held in. At this point, he relishes the thought of her blood coloring his hoodie and seeing that fucking smug-ass smirk of hers ripped off, especially for what she's putting him and Ray through. The young blonde flashes through his mind again, and he growls deep in his throat.

 _There's no point thinkin' about this bullshit._

Pushing out any other stupid thoughts out of his mind, Zack stares out at dark path before him.

 _So... I just gotta jump over the floor and cross to the other side, eh?_

Seeing a square-shaped platform ahead of him, he runs for it and leaps onto it, easily nailing the landing even with the small amount of leeway. But when he straightens out to the sight of several more of them surrounding him, he grows easily irritated.

 _What the hell?! Which way do I jump?! Aww... shit... I'll get there if I improvise._

Letting instinct take over, he chooses a random path and follows it, going from platform to platform without hesitating— until he reaches one where the next jump is far too distant for even him to reach.

 _Shit...! I can't jump that far!_

He turns around to glance the way he'd come, and he frowns.

 _Damn, which way do I go?_

"Go back, Zack."

He stiffens instantly at the familiar voice. Ray's light tones are distant, but she speaks high and clear enough for him to make out her words clearly in the silence. The moment she'd spoken, he'd felt a small tinge of relief, and then he quickly masks it.

"Huh? Why?" he demands, not expecting her to start giving him fucking directions at a time like this. How would she know, anyway?

"I can see you on the screen over here," she calls out to him, and though he can't see her figure, he can pinpoint the direction she must be. "Zack, jump the direction I tell you so you can pass through safely."

Although he's pleased she's not dead, the fact she's decided to give him orders even after he _specifically_ told her to knock it off gets under his skin. His silence seems to bug her.

"...Zack...?"

"I heard you the first time!" he snaps. "All I need to do is go back, right?"

"Yes. If you proceed as I say—"

"Knock it off! I think I can get back on my own!" he shouts out, his anger shining through again despite himself.

"...If you say so," comes Ray's quieted reply, which only makes him even more annoyed than he was before ust by the implications.

 _I don't need her fuckin' directions. I can make it back on my own, no problem._

He leaps back, and instantly she pipes in again.

"Zack, take the lower right."

His rebellious side rears its ugly head. "...I'll turn back, so quit barkin' out orders, you hear?!"

Just to spite her, he goes to the far right, but his personal triumph is cut short by the looming wall that waits for him on that path. The sight of it just proves that she was right, which pisses him off even more.

 _...Awww! Shit!_

He makes his way back, and he hears her voice, even more tired and exasperated now, repeat: "...Lower right."

He keeps moving, and despite his counters and obvious dislike for her 'help', she keeps trying to point him in the right direction.

"Zack, you were supposed to keep—"

"I'm _tryin'_ to!"

"Zack, when you get back, go four paces to the left... Zack?"

"...Yeah, yeah..."

When he's on what looks like a straight path to the finish, he figures that'll be the last of her helpfulness, but she continues speaking.

"Zack, keep going straight..."

"There's only straight from here! _Duh_!" he retorts, and she waits a moment to reply.

"...I can see you on the screen, so I thought it would be quicker for me to tell you. That, and if you don't make it across... I'll be sort of worse off."

He pauses on a platform, and his expression scrunches up like he smells rot. Her admittance prods at his subconscious, and bugs him beyond belief. For some reason, Cathy's fucked up nickname of calling them 'playthings' surfaces, and it sets him on edge immediately.

"...I'm not some pawn in a game of chess!" he growls out for her to hear. "Quit treatin' me like one!"

There's no response from the girl, and for a split second he feels a twinge of regret before it passes.

 _Good, maybe she got the damn hint._

He hurries to the finish, finally leaping onto the end floor where a door wait for him. A screen comes into view over a large gap, revealing his image and hers on either side. When he moves closer, her figure grows clearer, turned his direction from across the jump. His eyes scan over her frame, involuntarily searching for bullet holes in her paper-thin body.

"Yo," he greets her nonchalantly.

"Zack..." she murmurs, and if he didn't know better, he'd say there was a tiny bit of relief in her emotionless voice.

 _The fuck? I probably imagined it._

He glances over, then points with his scythe off to her left.

"There's two different doors, one over here and one over there!" he tells her, and she nods.

"So it would seem."

"What's the plan?"

He watches her twiddle her fingers around her purse. She seems out of it again, though he can't put his finger on why.

"Other than to keep going, I'm not entirely sure..."

Zack's usually would come back with something snide, but he just frowns at her.

"...You sure you still ain't got any poison in your system? Your face looks spaced-out," he remarks, and she shakes her head, brushing it off.

"I'm fine now," she assures, but he doesn't feel too sure about her. Hell, she'd probably walk across hot coals if he told her to.

 _Well, fuck, whatever. If she won't talk... then fuck it, I won't care!_

"Well, I guess all we can do is keep going," he says, a bit colder.

She nods, her blue eyes focused on him. "Yeah, I know. I'll do what I can..."

That sentence rubs him so wrongly in so many ways that he feels himself fight off the urge to rage at her. The hell does she think she's doing, anyway? Why is she like this?! Who the fuck does she think she's dealing with?

"... _Duh,_ " he hisses out through his teeth. "Do you want me to _kill you?!_ "

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes just how stupid it makes him sound. After all, all she ever talks about and harps on is her death wish, literally.

 _God dammit!_

Without being able to think of anything else to fix the stupid mistake, he storms off into the next room, leaving her to her own devices.

 _Fuck this place._

 **.x.X.x.**

Raising a brow, Ray stares after Zack's retreating form as he disappears into the door on the other side.

She's not really sure why he became so up-in-arms, though it must've been something she said. She hadn't thought anything she'd spoken was out of line, though...

... _He's pissed,_ she observes.

Feeling like he won't be coming back, and that time's running slim for them here, she follows her companion's example and enters the next room through the large metal door he'd pointed out.

When she steps inside, it's eerily quiet. The most lighting seems to come from her right albeit not illuminating much, and when she glances over, she sees a room identical to the one she's in— separated by an impassable wall of iron bars.

 _Is the room beyond these iron bars where Zack went...?_

She edges closer to it, and she can make out his familiar form and scythe nearby. He's staring down at something- what looks like a pedestal, and she recognizes that there's one exactly like it in her part of the room, too.

"Zack," she hedges quietly. "This room..."

He turns her direction, and she doesn't like how serious his expression is.

"The door's locked," he says, flipping a thumb toward the far end of the room. "And all that's here is this syringe. So what the hell're we supposed to do now? Shoot up and get high?"

He's already sounding bitter, and she knows she has to do something before he loses hope or does something reckless. She nods her head at his words, glancing to her own pedestal.

"A syringe, eh...? I'll go check it out."

Ray makes her way to the syringe waiting for her on the pedestal. It's rather large with a razor-sharp needle end, and filled with a nasty yellow liquid. It's unidentifiable, but it raises her suspicions.

 _What kind of drug is in this...?_

The sound of a door sliding open grabs her attention immediately from above. Her eyes flicker upward, and lights flood from above the room, enough for her to clearly see the upper balcony and the now-open door there. Striding out with a wide, self-satisfied grin, Cathy winks at the two below. She's taller than Ray thought, and without the filter of a screen to mask it, her smug, flirtatious attitude is overwhelmingly clear.

"Hello!" she chirps, gazing down at them like specimens in a cage. "We finally get to meet in person!"

She leans forward, placing a hand on her hip with surprise.

"My goodness! _Both_ of you are here! That's more than I planned for! But, I've got a feeling we're in for a treat!"

Zack rounds the pedestal in seconds, and Ray watches him point his scythe at her, waving it wildly.

"You sadistic _bitch!_ What the fuck is it _this_ time?!" he fumes.

"Oh, Zack... why so hostile?" she says in mock sorrow, yet still smiling. "Is that the way you talk to a beautiful lady? Some things never change!"

She laughs, the sound reverberating through the walls like a dissonant melody, and pinpoints him with her green eyes.

"But that's also what makes me so hot for you!"

"Zip it!" Zack shouts, growing more agitated with every passing second and every word she utters. "How 'bout you come down here so I can slice you up good!"

Her lips thin into a pleased smile.

"Silly boy! _You're_ the ones who will meet your demise!"

He growls out a guttural sound in response, and Ray feels like time's ticking away before something bad occurs. Though, at this point, she's starting to wish this would end already.

"...Hey," she calls over to Zack, and he whips his head around to look at her. "What's your plan this time?"

"Hey, Rachel Gardner."

Ray looks back at Cathy, who's leaning over and now sharply staring into the young girl, like she's a mere disturbance.

"What do you think a syringe is for?" she inquires.

The blonde takes a moment to think, not understanding the meaning of the question.

"...To inject medicine into the body," she answers, and there's the sound of a bell jingling in the background somewhere.

"Bingo!" Cathy says happily. "The door in this room will unlock when each of you inject those syringes. One contains a healthy dose of vitamins, while the other contains a not-so-healthy dose of something else. The 'something else' has a potent chemical capable of lulling you to sleep and tormenting you with nightmares! _Goodness,_ you may not even wake up!"

"Wha-?" Zack gapes at her. "Which syringe is it?!"

Her cackle answers. "As if I'd tell. I forgot, anyway. Originally, this room was designed so someone would have to make the right or wrong choice. You saw how the path forked in the room earlier, right? If luck is on your side, you'll inject the vitamins. Otherwise you'll inject the deadly chemical. A game of _chance,_ if you will."

Her eyes grow small and cold, and her words are sharper and heavier. Her glare settles on Ray.

"But there was a miscalculation on my part; there's _two_ of you!"

Ray's brows furrow. "...Surely you knew this would hap-"

" _Oh,_ you _unseemly_ child," Cathy drawls, cutting her off. She brushes a feminine hand through her short bangs, looking down on her.

"A good head on your shoulders is all you have going. I was monitoring you, but as Zack says; you're so dull."

The girl finds her words shrinking into her throat, forgotten, whereas Cathy laughs victoriously like she's winning her favorite game.

"Well, that's enough boring chit-chat!" she giggles. "Since there's two of you, I'll make a special tweak to the rules! Swapping the syringes is allowed. Plus..."

Something comes over her expression compared to her usual smugness. A dark, creeping expression that makes Zack's favorite term, ' _sadistic bitch_ ', seem all too accurate.

"...One of you can inject _both._ "

 _Inject both?_ If one of them did that, would the nightmare chemical still be at its full effect? Already, the cogs in Rachel's head are turning.

"However!" Cathy adds on, "Make sure to inject it to the last drop. There will be hell to pay for _any_ shenanigans. You'll never see the light of day again!"

She does a little dramatic twirl above, and then blows a kiss down to them.

"And on _that_ note, my lovely sinners, I wish you the best of luck!"

Turning on her tall heels, the woman traipses out of the room, the door shutting with finality behind her and leaving them in silence.

Ray gazes down at the syringe at her torso. The yellow liquid seems foreboding now with the thought of the chemical, but she's already thinking of what to do.

 _We can both have one, or one of us can inject both of them._ Doing that, however, might ensure death... and she's already seeing the best choice possible here.

Still, she looks at her companion, who's grimacing down at his needle.

"...Zack."

He stiffens at his name, and then reaches out, swiping the needle into his hand. He walks over to the bars and gestures with his scythe.

"...Hey, bring me the syringe!"

Not wanting to question him and earn his ire again, she takes the needle carefully in her palm. It's heavy to the touch and sloshes around with her movement.

Slowly she moves to Zack, and she can see the color of his needle is a dark green. Cathy's words must have been right about the difference in the contents, then.

"Here it is..." she says, presenting the object to him.

He gazes down at it through the bars, and frowns.

"...Ohh. Hey, do you know which one's lethal?"

Ray blinks, looking between the two. If only she could tell, but just by looks alone it's impossible to say.

"...Uhh..."

He grows graver, her lack of a response the answer he expected. "...I thought so. I have no clue, either. What's the plan?"

 _The plan...?_

Truthfully, she's at a loss, other than the obvious choice of just injecting the needles. Her silence bothers him, though.

"It would be a cold day in hell before I die in a shithole like this— that woman can _suck it!_ " he declares furiously.

 _He doesn't want to die here. So... that means that if we have to do as she says, it would make sense if I was the one to do it._

Her face is completely expressionless as she offers her suggestion. "Alright... want me to inject both of them?"

Zack leans back in shock, mouth wide in disbelief, and his face flickers with something odd.

"What-? D'you think you'd ever wake up again after that?" he demands, grabbing hold of the bars and leaning closer.

"...We'll find out," she says shortly. "Or do you wanna give it a shot?"

"Me? Hell no!"

"...Anyway," she continues, "We don't know which is drugged. So it would be better to know which one of us will be affected. If you don't... then I'll do it. There's no telling what's gonna happen, though."

"Not sure? What happens if you keel over and die?!" he presses her heavily,

Her dark eyes meet his.

 _There's that question again... the one he should already know the answer to._

"... _What_ happens?" she says quietly.

"I mean if you or me die, then what the fuck are we gonna do?!" he forces out through clenched teeth, and she tilts her head curiously.

 _The answer... is obvious._

"What you swore won't come true," she tells him slowly. "But... that..."

For some reason, the words won't come; and her head starts to hurt. She can feel the way her expression changes for a moment, a mix of pain and confusion, before going back to normal.

"...I don't know," she breathes honestly to him. "I'm sorry, I don't know."

He stares at her face, his multicolored eyes searching her, before narrowing.

"...That's right," he mutters. "You have a death wish. Sorry I asked somethin' so dumb."

"...Dumb..." she repeats, and he rolls his eyes, leaning against the bars. He's glaring at the ground, but there's a twisted smirk on his face.

"That bitch is right," he tells her. "You and I _are_ both playthings."

Instantly, the moment he says it, she feels the strong urge to refute the claim, but it's like the words just won't surface.

"Well... I don't get the whole 'swearing to God' thing," he continues on. "But as long as you die, you're happy, right? So tell me somethin'."

His face is pressed between the bars, gazing into her with intensity.

"Is that vacant look on your face because you've surrendered yourself to death?"

 _Is that why...?_

For a moment, she can't help but think he must be right. After all... death is her one desire. Or rather, the most important. It is the only thing that can put her to rest.

To give her the punishment and exile that she craves so much, to repent.

"...This sucks hard," Zack complains, leaning away and leaning his scythe against his shoulder. "I'm being played by a lifeless doll."

Still, his eyes flicker over her, and his mouth twists.

"Even so... I'm not gonna play into that bitch's hands. Gettin' the hell outta here is my top priority. So... I'll do as you say."

She blinks again. "...Huh?"

"Aaaah, _gimme_ that!"

Suddenly, he thrusts his hand through the bars toward her. Before she can say a word, he snags the needle from her hand and yanks it over to his side, clean out of her grasp.

"Wait, that's my syringe!" she says warningly, reaching toward the bars for it back, but he blows her off easily.

"Shut up! If you're gonna bitch about it, do it after takin' care of yourself!"

"But..."

"This chemical looks dangerous, but it's not poison, right? if this kills me, that means you'll die soon after. In that case, it would be better for me to inject it."

As he fumbles with them, she tries to reach out to him, but he dances far enough away.

"Wait..." she tries to stop him, alarm bells ringing in her head. Though she'd offered to do it herself, it was because she knew he wanted to escape . Like this, if he dies, he won't be able to uphold his end of the promise if it kills him.

 _It would've been the same scenario, too, if I was the one too..._

"No more waiting," he says firmly.

He hastily rolls up his sleeve, revealing the bandaged length of his arm, and jams her syringe into his upper arm through them, growling with pain at the sharp needle entering his skin. Ignoring her expression, he thrusts the second into his arm to follow, pressing the liquid into his body and then allowing the needles to clatter down to the floor at his feet.

She's left only watching him as he covers his arm again, the action punctuated by the sounds of the doors in front of them unlocking.

"...It opened," he says huskily.

He backs away from her, seeming alright despite the injections, and then heads for the door on his end. Despite his appearance, she can't help the worry that surfaces throughout her form.

"...Hey, let's get a move on," he urges her on without looking her way.

He slowly makes his way out, and disappears behind the metal door. Her fingers tighten around her purse strap tensely.

 _...No, he's not alright._

 **.x.X.x.**

Zack's barely taken a step through the narrow hallway before he has to grip the wall beside him for balance.

He'd injected those needles of shit in an effort to get it over with, and because of that vacant expression that had finally seemed real for just a single moment. Heh... it's funny, she looked pretty concerned when he dosed himself up with the gunk.

His head's really messed up now, though. It took no time at all for the effects of the drug to kick in, and while he feels physically alright, it's like he has the world's worst fucking headache.

His scythe dangles at his side, and his other hand is pressed to his head, as if to try and stop the painful disorientation pouring in from his bloodstream.

 _Aaarrghhhhh, shiiit! My head won't stop spinnin'..._

He tries to edge forward a bti more, to the end of the hall, but he's starting to black out. White noise fills his mind, and unwanted images start pouring back into his conscious, pictures he'd wanted to forget.

 _I'm seeing stars..._

No, no, no— it's too late. The world is growing blurry, and he can feel himself drifting off into the past, into the fuel of his worst nightmares. His control over himself vanishes, and he feels his sinking down into a mental abyss.

 **.x.X.x.**

 _In silence, the boy edges along the room. It's dark, somewhere after two in the morning, and his 'caretakers' have long since gone to bed. He was out late, burying the body of another unfortunate kid who couldn't take care of themselves._

 _Covered in dirt, he hears the TV going in the background, and his curiosity drives him to wander slowly to it. His footsteps are quiet as a mouse from all his effort stealthily sneaking out, and the nasty, grimy floorboards barely creak under his weight._

 _The flashing lights bring him closer, and he finds himself standing before the old TV set. His form, dirty and disgusting, is barely reflecting in the screen, but he's focused on what's happening in it far more._

 _A movie is playing. It's not very well made, but the scene playing is a chase scene where the killer is hunting down their prey. A stupid couple, screaming and crying and begging for their lives, are quickly silence by the murderer and his large hatchet. The blood splatters the camera, and zeroes in on his face— the face of pure happiness and glee. There's no shred of regret or sorrow or anguish, only bliss, and a wide, psychotic smile._

 _The sight of such a thing triggers something in the young boy. His hands ball into fists at his sides, but a small smile creeps over his lips too, a bare mimic of the one of the killer's._

 _'Aaah, that makes sense.'_

 _'—That's what I should do.'_

 **.x.X.x.**

Ray doesn't waste any time hurrying after Zack.

Entering a short hall, she moves forward into the wider corridor, and sees him there. He's standing unnaturally still, his weapon loosely held in his right hand, and it's far too quiet.

The girl rushes toward him, stopping only a foot away. Something feels awfully wrong, like the calm before a wild storm, and she doesn't like the way he looks. She can hardly see his face past the mess of black hair and his hoodie, but just by his body language, she can tell he's not alright.

 _Are the drugs taking effect?_

"Zack..." she calls out to him. "Zack, are you okay...?"

Silence. He doesn't move, but she can barely see his hands trembling by his sides.

Before she can speak further, he suddenly brandishes his scythe, gripping it in both hands like he's readying for an attack. Her eyes widen slightly with surprise.

"What's wrong...?" she asks slowly, and that's when she catches sight of his face.

His multicolored eyes are wild and haggard, filled with a desire for bloodlust and venom that she's never seen before, even when he chased her back on B6. His mouth is twisted into a psychotic, maniacal grin.

"I'm _fuckin' fiending to kill!_ " he shouts in a dark, yet mirthful voice, his every word dripping with malice and the want to destroy. "I'm gonna go _crrraaaaazzzzzzyy!_ "

Ray blinks at him a few times, unsure how to take his abrupt change. Still, she simply gazes at him solemnly.

"...I see. Do as you like."

Her words trigger something far worse inside him, and he raises the scythe, the sharp edge glinting in the light as he stares her down, not truly seeing her through his blind desire.

"Ah! That's right, I forgot about _you!_ "

With quickness she had hardly seen from before, she feels the scythe round her neck, the long blade pressing her hair to her nape. If she were to move an inch, it would undoubtedly cut her. He's right there in front of her, his face inches from her own, his breath fanning over her with his proximity. His body prevents her from being able to run, leaning over her in such a way that any action on her part would result in injury or capture instantly.

His eyes are much unlike the Zack she's come to know thus far, but she can see the flicker of something behind his dilated pupils, so close to her own that she can make out the subtle similarities in his gold and brown irises.

 _So he wants to kill me right now, then..._

Yet, those words ring hollow in her thoughts, as if she's wrong and off the mark.

Still, she maintains her calm composure even as she speaks to him.

"...But, are you okay with that?" she quietly asks.

His expression hardly changes, but his bewilderment shows.

"...Huuh?"

"You haven't made it outside yet," she coolly clarifies, before glancing down. "Besides... My face still has that vacant stare, doesn't it?"

His eyes narrow angrily. "Are you threatenin' me after all this time?! _Huh_?!"

"...No."

Her eyes flit back to his, gazing deep into Zack's meaningfully.

"...You swore to God you would do this for me, and so this oath is yours as well. Now, I'm not ordering you, or asking a favor of you... I'm just asking..." she breathes, exhaling slowly. "—Is that okay with you, Zack?"

Her sincerity snaps something back into his expression, and for a moment he's completely still. The dark look on his face wavers.

"...Man, you're dumb."

Her brows raise at the slight change in his voice. It sounds much less hungry for blood, a tiny bit more like the natural Zack she's been travelling with, hidden in the undertones.

His smile quirks upward, still a sharp line but a little softer than before.

"Even a lifeless bore of a girl like you is hard for me to resist killin' right now. I mean, if I were able to resist, then this wouldn't be happenin' to me now."

His voice has taken on a much quieter tone, and she watches the clarity return to his gaze for a moment through his cloudiness. Although the scythe is still pressed against her, it's not as tightly wound around her. She can easily notice the change in his demeanor, telling her that her thoughts were correct.

 _That means that he must be under the drug's influence._

"But even I hate lies," he continues, not moving his gaze from hers. "...Catch my drift?"

Though his words aren't clear, the meaning in his eyes is crystal. She can see it, telegraphed by his body language. Hidden amidst the desire for murder is something else that says he's not yet ready to kill her. That he doesn't want to— at least not now.

"...Yeah," she murmurs finally, and she feels him exhale slowly in what seems like relief. To her surprise, she feels him reach up to lightly ruffle her hair, his fingers easily sliding through her locks.

"Good girl. Please..." he mumbles slowly, the cloudiness beginning to return.

"...For now, don't die."

That simple sentence rings in her chest, causing her heartbeat to jump, but she can already feel herself promising him at least this.

 _He doesn't want me to die yet, but he can't control himself. So... I have to outlast him._

Ray gives him a short nod, enough for him to know she understands, and it's enough. His hand lowers, and the scythe falls from her neck to scrape against the ground. His face goes dark, hidden by his bangs, and she takes the moment to run past him, flying by with as much speed as she can and not daring to look back, entering the next section of the floor.

She might only have a single second before he returns to that crazed version of himself, and if he catches her, she really will die— and she'd be breaking her promise by allowing it like this.

 _I have to run as fast as my feet can take me to get away. Until those drugs have worn off, he'll pursue me with the intent to kill me. I just have to stay alive until then._

 _I can't let Zack kill me right now. I gotta get away...!_

Using her promise to him as the energy to push her weakened body forward, Ray runs forward down the deep red-colored hall. Just as she predicted, it takes a mere heartbeat for him to slam open the door behind her, his laughter following her down the corridor.

Flashbacks of his chasing her all over B6 flood her consciousness, except this scenario is nothing like the strangers the two had been then. No; she knows that this time, his reason for wanting her dead isn't his own, and his unspoken wish for her to live right now rings in her ears, as if on loop.

She rounds the nearest corner, sprinting through what seems like a maze of hallways. He's fast, and already starting to catch up to her, but she's quick too and small enough to dodge into nearby hallways without him noticing right away. She makes turn after turn, not knowing her destination or where to go to avoid him. She would hide, but she's certain he'd find her that way, hunting her down like predator after his prey.

So instead, she runs like her very life depends on each footfall, until she suddenly reaches a hallway ending in a door. He's creeping dangerously close, and there's no option for her to turn around— so she slams it open and rushes inside.

Compared to the rusty crimson of the past few areas, the room is a sterile white, nearly blinding her at first glance. As she forces herself to fight the painful lighting, she realizes that it's a wide room devoid of most exits. Instead, a large glass wall bars her path to the nearest door, leaving her without another choice and out of time.

 _Oh no! A dead end...?_ Her thoughts are filled with concern and she barely even registers anything else around her besides her lack of escape routes, knowing it's not nearly late enough for her to have outrun him.

The door behind her clangs open with the sound of his entry, and Ray turns around slowly to see Zack stalking toward her slowly. The maniacal look on his face is back, replacing the expression he'd given her earlier when he'd been so intense.

He edges closer, his steps loud in her ears. There's no mercy in his eyes, no hesitance as he stops in front of her, mere inches away once more. He readies his scythe for a blow and she knows there's little left she can do.

 _I'm sorry, Zack. I tried to get away... and I couldn't. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise._

With her hope lost to prevent him from killing her, Ray accepts her imminent death. She tilts her head down and closes her eyes, bracing herself for the harsh, violent slice that will take away her life.

There's a beat of silence as she senses him raising the weapon.

A harsh, sharp shot rings out through the room around her, and Ray's eyes fly open instantly with confusion, not expecting the sound.

Zack's scythe clatters noisily to the floor by his side, and he drops to his knees, clutching his arm with a short-lived groan. To her horror, blood seeps through and discolors the dirtied white bandages wrapping his fingers as well as the dark hoodie underneath. A splatter of the crimson liquid is sprayed across the floor behind him, residual from the gunshot.

"Hello! Glad you made it this far~!"

Her head whips around to pinpoint the source of the high laughter that follows the words. Now that he's no longer chasing her, she can focus more on her surroundings. Beyond the solid glass wall is a raised platform with a set of stairs leading down. At the very top is a large set of screens and a massive console— half hidden behind Cathy herself, smirking down at them through the barrier.

"Sorry to interrupt just when things were getting good!" she says unapologetically, tapping her riding crop on her other hand with amusement. "After all, this room _is_ for execution by gunfire... I thought I might as well shoot you. Take a look! See all the guns around you?"

As if on cue, the walls around the two begin to tremble. Large machine guns reveal themselves in hidden cubbies along the ceiling, all of them pointed in their direction.

"Each of these are fired with just the push of a little ol' button! Isn't that lovely?

Her long, knee-high boots take methodical steps down the stairs, coming to the bottom so she can observe them through the glass like animals on exhibit. She raises a red-gloved hand, lightly touching her chin.

"...By the way, your falling out with each other was absolutely hilarious!" she comments with a grin. " _Especially_ you, Zack! What an exemplary and perfect specimen of a sinner you are! The way that even if you struggle, in the end you can't fight your maniacal tendencies is just so... _lovely_!" She punctuates the statement with her laugh.

"...Shut... up..."

Behind Ray, the noiret hesitantly picks himself back up onto his feet, retrieving his scythe with unsteady hands. Ray can see the unbridled anger written over his features. She's quick to turn to him, concerned for his well-being.

"...Zack!"

Ray's barely taken a few steps toward him, reaching out to try and help somehow, when he thrusts out a hand. The blow lands square in her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs and causing her to stumble back, clutching her chest.

"Stay away from me, or you're dead!" he hisses through clenched teeth.

Giggling in the background, Cathy toys with her crop, placing a hand on her hip as she watches them.

"There! _There!_ The bullet in your body has restored some of your rationality, but look at you! You can't _R-E-S-I-S-T_ , huh?"

He clutches his weapon, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. This pleases her immensely, and she heads back up the stairs to retrieve something.

"Hey, Rachel Gardner..."

Ray follows the woman with her gaze, watching her twirl with a dramatic flair— before tossing something over the edge of the glass wall that skitters near her feet.

"Here you go!"

Eying it, Ray's chest restricts lightly with the sight of a shining pistol inches away from her. The glinting weapon seems to await her fingers, and it instantly gives her a nauseous feeling in the back of her throat.

"As long as you have that, you should both be even-steven, right?" Cathy smiles gleefully, wandering back down to watch once more. She blows a kiss their direction and wiggles her fingers.

"Now, let's have a duel to the death! Whoever survives gets an even more lovely death!"

Ray, eyes still trapped against the glittering metal of the weapon nearby and hypersensitive to the harsh breaths of the boy behind her, feels something rear its ugly head in the back of her mind. It's small and nearly unheard, but it still proves powerful enough for her to raise her eyes to the woman with reluctance.

 _She wants me to shoot Zack. I..._

"...What is the point of doing something like that?" she coldly asks.

Cathy's wide, crimson lipstick'd smile reverses into a displeased frown at the girl's hesitance.

"...Silence! You boring brat. Why seek meaning? What do you think that will get you? There's no way that would ever amount to anything for a sinner. That's precisely why there's no need to seek meaning."

Ray quietly gazes at her a moment— then she goes to the gun and leans down, picking it up in her slender hand. Cathy brightens considerably when her 'sinner' does as she's told, like she's won.

"Okay, now put on an entertaining show!" she urges on, before laughing her way back to her perch above.

The weapon is heavy in the girl's hand, unfamiliar and lethal. She finds herself weighing it in her palm, as Zack makes his way to her. Though favoring his arm, he has his scythe tight in his grasp, stopping before her with his intent clear.

 _I have to shoot him, like she says, but..._

Her brows crease with concern, before she settles, staring down at the gun.

"Could it be that you're scared to pull the trigger?" Cathy asks from above. She has her hands under her chin, gazing out at them with a thin smile. "Can you not break away from that insipid, boring child?"

 _I have to do it, don't I?_ Ray wills herself to lift the gun, but her hand doesn't move.

Her inaction riles the boy in front of her, and he snarls, "If you're gonna do it, make it quick!"

 _Even Zack is telling me to do it. But, I..._

She doesn't understand why she can't lift the gun, to do as she's told, but the answer to it feels right at the edge of her mind. It's like a leaden weight between her fingers.

"Even if you don't shoot, I can't resist killing you!" Zack shouts at her, burning holes into her with his gaze.

Her being tries to lift the gun, to point it at Zack, to dare pull the trigger, but...

...she can't.

The promise she made to him before rings dissonant in her thoughts. It prevents her from doing it, the memory of the vow they made to God keeping her from acting. There's something else hidden under the surface that also binds her, rooting her to the spot... and she knows she can't do it. She can't shoot him; she can't _kill_ Zack.

So Ray closes her eyes, and hopes he hurries on with it.

The scythe is lifted to her neck, and she feels it lightly nick her skin with the lightest pressure. The gun dangles at her side, but she can feel her resolve strengthening.

 _This is what I desire. Though, if I die here, he might not be able to escape. Is it wrong for me to accept death like this, without fulfilling my end?_

 _But, I can't shoot him._

Her voice comes out, a little raspy, but firm.

"...I won't do it."

There's a slight tremor of the blade with her words, before he answers.

"...I see. I'm fiending to _kill!_ "

As he straightens up and prepares to finish her, she lowers her head a little, eyes still closed. The darkness invites her, promising her eternal sleep, but she has the urge to look at Zack.

She feels awful. Despite wanting release, the thought of it like this... it disgusts her. It feels wrong.

"I'm sorry... making you kill someone as boring as me," she murmurs to him softly.

He snorts, but the sound holds no mirth. "Yeah, you're right...! It'll prolly make me feel shitty! Didn't I tell you that if you're gonna shoot, then do it?! At this range, you won't miss!"

Compared to his blusterous, loud tones, hers are a much quieter soprano. Her words, honest and sincere, are meant for him to hear only.

"—I won't shoot you."

He laughs, a violent and animalistic sound that makes her wince slightly.

"Don't you know what'll happen to you?! Oh, that's right; you have a death wish."

Her eyes finally open, and she meets the cloudy hues of his. Though she may be expressionless, her look portrays the way she feels about it.

"I do- but this isn't right," she answers certainly, genuine, not knowing if her words will make a difference, but speaking what's truly on her mind.

"...This is what is in my heart. Zack can kill me. But..." Her face grows colder, her deep blue irises reflecting darkness. "That woman... I will not be a puppet for that woman. I _won't_."

Her resolve causes the weapon at her throat to waver, but she continues on strongly, her words filled with meaning.

"I mean, both you... and I... are _not_ her play things," she tells him. "Killing and being killed... Are both _our_ decisions to make."

Something triggers behind his gaze, and she notices how the foggy haze in his eyes seems to fade out further. His dark expression lightens a little— and then he laughs, a sound far less filled with bitterness and spite.

"After all this time, _now_ you've finally said somethin' worthwhile?!"

A little taken by his change, she gazes at him, realizing the conflict written over his features despite himself. Before she can do much, he lets out an exasperated, drawn out groan. He stares into her with pressing urgency, but he lets out a pained grin.

"I can't hold back any longer...! Hey, you could at least smile! Do it now!"

 _Ah... So then, he's chosen to kill me right here, then, right?_

 _If that's what he wants... I'll follow through._

Choosing to follow the final demands he makes of her, she steels herself, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

Then, she reopens them and lets a soft smile settle over her features, hoping it pleases him enough despite how dull he must think she is.

He searches her face, before chuckling under his breath.

"...Man, you suck! That dead look in your eyes... But yeah, if it was _genuine_ , then I'd _love it!_ "

With a metallic sound, he withdraws the weapon from her neck, taking several steps back away from her. There's something unreadable mixed into his odd expression, and he runs a hand through his dark bangs, even as he grins. He seems far more like himself again, thankfully, though she doesn't understand what he's doing.

"...Just imagining that I'm killin' you puts a smile on my face," he says, his words a little slurred, before he raises his scythe above himself, confusing her further.

"...So much, that I could even _kill myself!_ "

His words grow loud, like a thunderous quake in her eardrums, and her expression contorts into horror. She throws out a hand, barely realizing what he's about to do, but her action is too late.

With a harsh swing downward, the sharp point of the scythe dips into his stomach, easily cutting through the cloth and bandage underneath. Instantly he lets out a groan, pain registering over his face instantly, and the scythe falls from his fingers. The blade slips out of the now gushing wound, revealing the garish, gruesome sight to her wide eyes.

He drops to his knees, wobbly, and stares down at the blood covering his bandaged palms— before a strange smile twists over his face, and his eyes close. His figure topples over onto his back, the red liquid beginning to pool under him, and he doesn't move again.

For a moment, she feels as though the breath has left her body entirely. Hell, even her heart may've stopped the moment he stabbed himself; then she's in motion, running to his side and kneeling by him, her panic overriding her sensibility for a moment.

 _No— no, no no._

"Zack...!" she chokes out through her unwilling throat.

A blood-curdling screech follows her words, though it doesn't come from Zack. No, the horrified scream emanates from the strawberry blonde at the top of the stairs, her gloved hands pressed against her cheeks. The coy, smug look she usually wears has been replaced by anger and shock.

Cathy races down the stairs, and the glass panel before her slides open to reveal a doorway. She runs forward and she slams her open palms into Ray's chest, throwing her backward.

"Absolutely horrifying!" she yells, closing in on the girl. "I take that back— you're not _exemplary!_ Rachel Gardner's a half-baked sinner!"

She turns to glare in Zack's lifeless direction.

"To think that Isaac Foster's a suicidal fool ruled by desire! _Oh,_ it saddens me so! _Aarrgghh!_ This revelation will cast rain on my condemning parade! Rachel, if you were _any_ more dull, I'd _die!_ "

The sound of the woman treating Zack like he was nothing more than a toy for her amusement sets Ray's teeth on edge, and she finds herself back-talking her without a second thought.

"...I don't recall you being in charge of deciding that."

Cathy shoves her back again, more forceful this time, her green eyes beady and small, filled with hatred.

"I can get no joy from punishing you...! Oh, it _torments_ me, Rachel! If it comes to this, then Zack would be better! And he would've looked so good riddled with bullets, too! If you can't pull the trigger, then you're a half-baked sinner!"

She leans over the girl, towering over her by a foot or so, to burn through her with looks alone.

"So... _why_... were you able to make it here?"

Cathy grips her shoulders and tosses her off to the side. Ray barely catches herself, the woman being stronger than she first looks, but she stands her ground as the master of the floor stalks toward her again, her riding crop gripped so tightly in hand that her knuckles are white.

"Oh well... It's rather boring, but you'll have to be riddled with bullets."

A sound a few feet away makes both women turn their heads to look, and Ray zeroes in on the slight movement of Zack's body. He moans quietly, revealing the fact he's still alive, and an icy rush of relief floods her bloodstream in response.

 _Zack is alive...!_

Cathy takes a step toward him, her entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh my! You _lived_ through that!" she says with surprise, moving until she's standing at his feet. She taps her crop against her shoulder rhythmically, her attention entirely focused on him now. The familiar smirk from before settles over her pencil-thin cherry lips. "This can't be! You really _are_ a monster that doesn't disappoint! How lovely!"

Ray feels something surge inside her, something powerful that drives her to quickly stride closer to her, until she's standing a few feet behind the woman. Her fingertips snap at the strap crossing her chest anxiously, but she doesn't waste time.

"...Will you kill Zack?" she demands.

Cathy doesn't spare her a glance, her hair bobbing as she speaks. "Of course! I mean, I'm the only one who can punish such a lovely sinner, right?"

Panic races through Ray's bloodstream, and she withdraws the gun the woman had given her earlier. She'd tossed it into her bag without giving it a second thought when Zack was about to kill her, but now she raises it, pointing it unsteadily at the master of the floor.

 _I- I can't let her._

"...Stop it," Ray commands, her voice sounding less powerful than she wants, but carrying weight. Her grip on the gun is untrained and wobbly, but she doesn't waver her aim from the back of the blonde's head, her brows furrowing together.

 _Zack can't die. I can't let him die, I won't let her kill him!_

Cathy stiffens, and then whirls on the girl. Instead of intimidation on her face, however, the young girl's greeted with that narcissistic grin again.

"Oh, go ahead and shoot!" she urges, unperturbed and waving a hand.

Her confidence causes Ray to falter slightly, which only pleases the older woman.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that gun was never loaded from the very start!" she cackles. "Well, it's not like it matters— a half-baked sinner like you could never shoot it in the first place! ...But I have to admire your spunk to turn it on me."

The woman throws out a hand dramatically, as if she's the star of a theater play, and shouts—

"Bang!"

A gunshot rings out, but it's not from Ray's own hand. Instead, it's from one of the weapons along the wall, and the shot tears the faux gun right out of the young girl's grasp, the force of it burning her palm and making the weapon skitter far out of her reach.

Ray drops to her knees, feeling the sharp pain in her hand, while Cathy simply giggles to herself. The woman crosses back around to Zack's unconscious side, grinning down at him, while Ray's head spins.

 _No, no, no, I..._

 _I can't..._

 _She's going to kill him. She's going to kill Zack, she's going to murder him, he's going to die—_

 _I have to stop her_ _._

"...Alright, might as well punish him since his life's been prolonged and he's in prime form," Cathy notes to herself.

 _No._

The word loops, over and over in Ray's head. Watching Cathy stand over Zack like this makes something snap inside her, something strung tight and rewound over and over. Her head hurts, the pain bringing back unwanted memories.

Her vision blurs and fades, the images she witnesses being ones she saw long, long ago.

A person, standing over another, thrusting a blade into their body. Over, and over, and over. The blood, spurting everywhere, coating their clothes, covering the floor. The dark, suppressed video plays for her like a cursed nightmare, and she feels her body moving on its own.

 _I can't let Zack die, I can't see something like that happen again, I need him to kill me, I can't do this, I-_

She's not sure she's thinking anymore, but she's already in motion. Her fingers are already digging into her bag and fumbling with something, and she's rising to her feet with the now readied object, still hidden, in her purse.

"...No."

The voice that speaks sounds nothing like her own, firm and clear, filled with authority. Cathy turns around to see her walking closer, edging closer to the unloaded gun on the floor but without making any move to pick it up.

Ray's eyes are dark, the blue an empty sapphire, but she feels no fear or reluctance to face the woman.

"I won't let you kill him," she states non-negotiably. "Zack is meant to kill me."

Without hesitance, she lifts her hand from her purse, withdrawing the fully loaded handgun from the confines to point it steadily at her enemy. This time her hand is certain and unwavering, pointed directly at Cathy's chest, and the other woman widens her eyes with shock— along with what looks like a flicker of fear.

"...Where'd you get that handgun?!" The green-eyed monster cries out angrily.

Before Cathy can move to react or run, Ray simply presses her finger to the trigger with a cold, open stare.

"— _Bang_!"

Her word is punctuated by her gunshot, and Cathy stumbles backwards, her hand gripping at her suit. Blood is easily spreading through the fabric, turning the flat black into a nasty, gruesome shade of mahogany. Within moments, blood trickles from her mouth, and her chest heaves with outrage and pain. Her emerald eyes glare daggers into the young blonde, and she squeaks out low, guttural cries of anguish.

" _Nooooooooooo!"_ she screams at her, "Where'd you get that _gun_?! You- you _slut!_ "

She starts to chuckle madly, growing louder and louder.

"So this is your sinful true self! That's great! You _sinful_ girl! _I'll punish you! Punish you!_ "

She throws out a hand, a small remote in her shaky palm, and the guns around the room train on Ray's form, ready to fire at the press of a button. Cathy shouts at the top of her lungs, her high voice crackling with anger and the want to crush her.

" _I'll punish the demon lurking under that collected face of yours!_ "

She begins to laugh, her thumb ready to press the trigger, when—

"—Shove it!"

The glint of a familiar scythe, and suddenly blood is pouring from Cathy's arm. With one fell swoop, the hand that had been about to seal the young girl's fate is no longer attached, the discarded limb falling into a messy, gory pile at her feet. She stares at the stump of her arm spewing blood, trembling with horror and unable to react, her mouth barely moving.

"H-huh?" she croaks out.

"Stupid sadistic _bitch._ You've been shot, so don't look so happy! Thanks to you, I want to _kill, kill,_ and _kill!_ "

Ray is rooted to the spot as Zack, looking more alive than ever, leaps toward Cathy. Crimson liquid is still staining his front and he's covered in the stuff, but he doesn't seem to care as he raises his scythe over her, grinning ear to ear.

"I'm up and at'em!"

The strawberry blonde barely has time to speak, her face going blank as she stares up at the offending blade.

"—You're kidding, right-?"

"This is _reality!_ " he spits out, before heaving down the weapon forcibly. " _Waaaaaake uuuup!_ "

There's a scream so loud it can break glass as she's cut down. A large, open slash tears through her body, the wound stretching from her shoulder deeply down to her waist, and she falls to the ground in a heap inelegantly. Her green eyes are wide, becoming glassy, but she can't help mumbling words near inaudible before going entirely still, bathing in her own fluids.

Once he's finished with her, Zack flops down with his legs curled under him, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes sleepily, like he'd woken from a nap. He looks worse for wear now that he's not fueled by his urge to kill, which only worries her.

To see him up and moving, though, is a bigger relief than she first thought. All she can do is be grateful he's alive.

In all honesty, she's almost speechless by his sudden turn.

"...Zack," she murmurs.

He runs his hand through his messy hair, groaning in response, and she hurries to him.

"Zack, are you alright?" she presses him.

He waves her off. "My stomach hurts like hell, _duh."_

Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. She wants to help him, but...

"Zack, earlier..." she begins softly, asking the first question that's on her mind. "Did you take joy in slicing your own stomach?"

He gapes at her like she's asked the dumbest question he's heard all day, setting his scythe down next to him.

"Huh? Don't get me confused with that sadistic bitch!" he scolds her instantly. "I just figured it would be better than killin' your boring ass and being killed by that bitch of a jailer."

his reasoning is practically lost on her, but she resigns herself to not understanding it fully. For now, it's a good thing he's not dead.

His eyes light up, though, and he grins her way.

"...Did you see her _face_?!" he asks her gleefully.

"...Yeah," she nods.

He chuckles. "That was _gold!_ You did me proud, too! I feel like a new man!"

His odd praise fills her with a twisted sense of pride, and her chest restricts slightly. She can't help questioning him. "...Really?"

"I got a bit of a flesh wound on my stomach, but it's nothin'," he states, wincing as he shifts his position. He picks himself up off the floor with a little bit of struggling, and throws his scythe over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's get goin'."

His gung-ho attitude would be fine if she wasn't worried about the gaping hole in his torso. She stares at him, surprised by his strength.

"...Are you alright?" she inquires again.

"Oh?" he says, like she's being overprotective. "Pfft, this ain't nothin'."

"Okay," she relents, though her fears aren't entirely assuaged. She can tell he's favoring it, but she knows she can't stop him from doing what he pleases. "But know your limits."

He exhales loudly. "Put a cork in it. Worry about yourself."

She doesn't want to give in, but she lets it go for the time being.

 _Hopefully he's really okay..._

They make their way through the glass wall and up to Cathy's computers. Ray examines it, while Zack goes to try the door. He finds it locked and growls angrily.

"...You shittin' me? What an annoying bitch."

"Yeah," Ray agrees.

"So what's the plan?" he asks, glancing her way.

She peers over the large console of buttons. "I'm not sure, but the door might open if we operate this machine here..."

She thumbs through various buttons, finding there's at least a hundred of them for a multitude of things.

"Surveillance videos for each room... A video delivery system... A trap activation system... Ah!" Her eyes zero in on the button she seeks. "There it is! The door release button!"

"I'm surprised the bitch was able to pull the strings from back here so well," he remarks bitterly.

"There's also an elevator passage button— I'll go ahead and activate that one, too," Ray says, taking it upon herself to alleviate that problem as well.

"Oh!" He cheers immediately, growing happier despite his pained expression. "Open it! Open it!"

After pressing both buttons and hearing satisfying clicks, she turns to him. "it should be open now."

He almost seems overly happy by their progress, pumping his free fist. "Yeah, we did it! Yahoo! Let's go!"

She stares at him a moment, wanting to question his rather cheery disposition, but decides against it. He's in pain and probably trying to keep things light, so she won't press him... for now.

They enter a velour, lush hall that's decorated with plush red carpet, and Zack frowns at the new territory.

"Huh? Where does this go?" he wonders aloud.

"...Beats me," she replies.

They walk out into another wider corridor, and they both seem to register it as familiar grounds.

"What the— this place seems familiar?" he says, and she nods in agreement.

"It's the first area we passed through," she explains.

"Wha-?! Don't tell me that cocky bitch's been around here right under our nose the whole time?!" he declares with outrage, before settling with a new thought. "Well, it doesn't really matter. She's worm food!"

Ignoring his comment, she peers around the hall, and he glances at her curiously.

"Hmm. I'm pretty sure this hallway had an unopened door somewhere," she tells him. "I think it's for the elevator passage."

His grin widens. "Nice! What're we waitin' around here for, then? Let's blow this popsicle stand!"

He hurries forward and she trails behind watching him. If she didn't know better, she'd say he wasn't injured at all, but she can see the way he limps slightly and favors his arm from being shot.

 _I think he's hurting more than he's letting on..._

They find the right door and pass through a much different, plain white tile passage. As they walk through, Ray spots some scribbled writing on the wall that looks written in near cursive.

 _"To God give thy name and thou shalt be admitted entrance, if thou art free from deceit. Offer the name that resides within thee, and then know thyself. Know this; God values not the corrupt."_

Ray's eyes scan the words several times over with blank eyes, and Zack narrows his eyes at her, clearly not understanding what's given her pause.

"Hey, how long you gonna be readin' that for? Is somethin' interestin' written down there?"

She snaps out of her thoughts, and shakes her head.

"Uhh... not especially," she fibs.

 _Well, not to you, anyway. For me, it feels like... a warning..._

"Huh? Well, why were you so serious while you read it?" he continues questioning, not taking her answer well.

She frowns, before pursing her lips and shaking her head a second time. "...I'm sorry. Don't worry about it, let's go."

She walks forward ahead of him, not waiting for his response, and he falls quiet behind her. A moment later, they reach the end of the hall, which dead-ends into the elevator passage. Though they try to open it, it refuses to budge.

"...It won't open," she murmurs.

"We come all this way, and this?!" Zack grumbles with annoyance, before turning to her. "Hey, think it'll open with that button-riddled machine from earlier?"

She's already frowning before he's finished. "I'm pretty sure there wasn't an elevator boot switch even on the control machine... Let me think."

While she starts to figure out the puzzle in front of them, he steps back, shoving his hand in his pocket absently.

"Oh, I'll uh... let you do the thinkin' for the both of us."

While he watches her, leaning against the wall for a moment, she places a hand to her chin and ponders the elevator. There's nothing visible akin to a switch or a button for them use, but there's a rectangular indentation next to it.

She nears it, peering at the inside of the dent, and her brows press together thoughtfully.

 _This indentation... Come to think of it, the words 'bid thy name' were written on the wall we saw. 'Bid thy name'... I'm pretty sure we have something with our names written on them._

Ray roots through her bag, flipping past the gun, and the needle and thread, finding the flat object she wants— the written placards from earlier, when Cathy forced them to take photos.

She takes her own and places it into the indentation. It fits snugly into the crevice, but nothing happens. Ray waits for a trigger or click of some kind to alert her it worked, but her own placard has no effect.

 _...Nope, it's not this one,_ she notes, dipping her fingers under it and taking it off the wall. Placing it back into her bag, she retrieves Zack's and mounts it in the indentation, pressing it firmly in.

This time, there's a victorious click, and then the whir of machinery as the elevator grows active.

 _Ah, good, that should've worked._

"Hey, don'tcha have one left over that way?" Zack asks her, coming to stand by her side.

She's quiet, thinking of her placard and how it was rejected by the wall. It makes words from the passage on the hall repeat in her thoughts.

 _'Thou shalt be admitted entrance, if thou art free of deceit.'_

Would that mean that the elevator mechanism thinks she is deceitful...? Is she classified as a sinner, then, as Cathy put it?

Her gaze falls from the bag, and she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

"...It's leftover," she murmurs. "I'll throw this one away."

He peeks at her face curiously. "You sure about that?"

Ray returns his gaze levelly and nods.

"Yeah. It doesn't look necessary."

Next to Zack, the elevator doors slide open, revealing the small room, and he grins wide happily.

"Oh, it opened! We're gettin' on."

"...Wait-"

He practically runs into it. She reaches out to give him pause, but he's already within the confines.

 _Don't leave me behind._

She joins him in the dim lift, the door slamming to a close behind her, and she slowly walks to the rear, pressing her back to the somewhat dirty wall. At this point, her limbs feel exhausted, even with the small nap she'd had thanks to Zack's care.

 _We're almost out. Next is B2 then, I think. If we can make it through the last two floors, Zack can escape... and then he can kill me._

Ray closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling softly, and for some reason Cathy's mangled body flashes over her mind's eye. She can still feel the recoil of the gun in her hands. Funny, she hardly remembers the first few seconds after she pulled the trigger; it's a blur in her memory. In fact, the most vivid thing that she can recall from that moment was how determined she felt to kill Cathy before she could end Zack's life.

 _It didn't matter how, or why, or what it took for me to stop her. I only knew I had to do something._

"—Hey, Ray."

The girl is taken from her thoughts by Zack's voice. He seems chipper, and she blinks at him, wondering what might be on his mind.

He grins at her toothily. "You did a _helluva_ job back there."

Not expecting those words to come from him, she tilts her head, surprised.

"What do you mean...?"

"I _mean,_ you did a hell of a job shootin' that crazy bitch," he praises her, crossing his arms and letting his scythe dangle over his shoulder. "Feels like a steamroller's been lifted off my shoulders!"

Wide-eyed by his words, she can only answer, "...Yeah."

The boy takes a moment before flopping down onto the elevator floor, the action lightly shaking the metal cage. Lying his arm over a raised knee, he lays his weapon down and presses his head to the wall for a moment with closed eyes. After a second or two, he peeks open at her.

"...Hey, Ray. So what brought you here in the first place?" he asks in a quieter, calmer tone, but filled with interested undertones.

She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is, "Oh..."

 _What brought me here in the first place..._

 _That... was a murder..._

For a brief second, the mental images start to flood her mind again, but she forcefully represses them. Instead, she swallows and replies.

"...I witnessed a murder... and came here for counseling..." she tells him, allowing herself to retell the story in vague detail. "When I awoke, I was on the lowest floor of this building."

His face contorts with confusion, his lips pressing together. "Huh? That makes no sense."

She turns away from him, and a cold smile flits across her lips for a short, brief second.

"...Tell me about it."

"...Hmph." He ponders her words for a few heartbeats, before coming up with a new question. "...Oh, and the gun you fired... It wasn't the bitch's, was it? What's the story on that?"

Protectively, out of reflex, her hand splays against the side of her purse, where the gun resides once more.

"This..." she says slowly, "...is _my_ gun."

His eyes widen, and he waves a hand. "Where'd you get your hands on somethin' like that?"

"...Inside my handbag, wrapped in a handkerchief," she replies. "I've had it ever since I witnessed the murder."

He falls silent, but hen he looks at her with questioning in his eyes.

"Then... why didn't you just use it in the beginning?" he asks her.

"I will not kill myself," she states firmly, not even giving it a second thought. "God would not forgive me."

"Nah." He waves a hand to dismiss her words, shaking his head. "I didn't mean just that."

... _Oh. He must mean when he tried to kill me._

"Besides, you're the one who will kill me," she tells him.

Zack gives her an odd look, before lowering his head, chuckling under his breath.

"...I'm not sure if you're an idiot or smart," he comments, before looking back up at her. "At any rate, what you did back there— shooting that bitch— was the right thing. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. The timing was absolutely perfect!"

Ray studies his smiling face, feeling strange about how upbeat he seems to be with such a large wound in his stomach. But, something about his positive attitude makes her chest feel a little warmer.

"...You're in a good... mood," she lightly notices.

He flashes a bright grin her direction. "You could say that. You too, right?"

She's given pause by the turnaround of her statement, but she finds he's not wrong. She hadn't realized it, but listening to him talk was making her feel... happier somehow.

Ray turns away, and a real smile of her own lights across her mouth. For a fleeting moment through everything, she feels like something is right. It's so different from how hopeless she'd been when she first woke up.

"...Yeah," she answers brightly.

The two fall into a comfortable silence after that, and a couple minutes later the elevator comes to a stop. The doors slide open, and she exhales.

 _On to B2._

"...We're here," she says, beginning to take a few steps forward toward the door— but something stops her.

It's so quiet... with only her own footsteps.

She turns around to look at her companion, and she realizes his eyes have closed. His head is slumped to one side. Something icy slides down her spine, and she can't explain why her heartbeat suddenly sounds so loud in her ears.

"...Zack?"

No answer. He doesn't move even at her call, and just like that, she feels the worst kind of fear envelop her.

Panic encases her form. She runs to his side, gripping his shoulders, shaking him, calling out his name— but he doesn't wake up even with all the desperation she pours into her actions.

 _He doesn't move._

 _No, no, no, no, no—!_

" _Zack_ _...!?"_

* * *

 **A/n: Lightly edited.  
**

Hey guy! A quicker update this time, and just as long as you probably expected at this point.. hahaha. I put some real effort into this, to my surprise. It was fun to write (and I think I wanted to cry when Zack stabbed himself, truth be told. )

I'm currently trying to juggle work along with this, so please wish me luck with it! (it's actually kinda fun!) Life's a pain but I'm somehow managing to churn out 13k chapters, so I must be doing something right. ^^

Anyways, here you go! I hope this is enough to hold y'all until I come back. Next up, floor B2... and whether or not Zack lives to see the light of day.

Read on and give me a review to make me smile? (or just for feedback reasons? ^^)


	11. Down The Rabbit Hole

The world around them is deathly silent.

The sounds of her sharp, labored breathing and dragging breaks the quiet every few moments, but they're loud in her ears, encompassing. Her own heartbeat drums within her, the loudest sound of all.

Ray has never felt such a mixture of fear, desperation, and despair before.

Her hands are sore, but she pushes herself to keep moving. Her chest is tight, so tight, and she heaves with exhaustion— but she can't stop now.

Beneath her grasp, where her hands meet the dark, warm gray material, is a limp body. He's taller and much heavier than she can lift, and even trying to slide him along the floor by his shoulders is proving futile. She wishes he'd open his eyes, that he'd wake up, to show her some sign that he's alive; but the only thing she has to go on is the too-faint rise and fall of his chest.

It was like a nightmare, seeing Zack there. So peaceful and yet so eerie, leaned against the back of the elevator, unable to react to her frantic calling of his name. The blood, still oozing through his clothing, created a scene that she won't soon forget.

It took her moments to figure out what to do, to sort through the once-intelligent and coherent thoughts that had become so chaotic, but she knew she had to get him off the elevator.

Her weak, small body can barely inch him along, having to stop frequently to take a breath. Ray manages to get him out and into the hall before she nearly collapses. His scythe, which he'd had still gripped in one hand, has nearly been lost during their short journey.

The futility of her actions looms over her head, and she knows they can't continue on like this. Still, if she had to, she'd somehow force herself to bring him to the end of the floor, or even the next for that matter. Whatever it takes to get him out of here.

For the moment, she struggles to move his prone form up against the paneled wood wall, carefully placing him in such a way that, at first glance, he seems to have just dozed off. Fighting with his weapon, she places it by his side too, in case he wakes up.

Ray kneels by his feet, her ice blue eyes scanning him and searching his face for twitches or signs of activity. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen, his bandaged face unable to portray anything reassuring. His dark eyelids are shut tight.

She has to ignore the urge to reach out, to touch his face, maybe do something he would do and slap him awake. Instead, she stares at him, her eyes darting away down the darkened hall and back warily.

"...Zack," she whispers, her voice crackling a little. She clears her throat quickly. "We've arrived at B2."

To her surprise, he coughs, and those bi-colored orbs peer open at her just a little, hazily focusing on her. His body wracks with the action, and she furrows her brows worriedly,

"Zack...!" Her voice wavers, but the relief is audible.

He blinks at her groggily, licking his dry lips and shifting a bit. "Huuh...?"

Her heartbeat subsides a little, and the gratefulness to see him alive is overwhelming. She lightly touches her chest, closing her eyes briefly.

"...Thank goodness..."

"...We there yet...?" comes his shaky reply, and she's horrified by how weak his voice has become, how frail-sounding.

Ray nods her head slowly, frowning. "Yes, but..."

"...Then, let's get movin'."

He starts to lift himself up, using his palms to push himself back to his feet, but she reaches out, pressing his shoulders reflexively back down. He doesn't fight back, an awful sign, especially by how easy it is to stop him.

"No way, you're not ready! You're still bleeding!" she tells him hastily, her concerns etched over her face, and he raises a brow lazily at her. He follows her gaze downward, noting the crimson staining the front of his body with interest.

"Ah... blood...?" he says, like he's only just noticed it there. He shrugs his shoulders. "This ain't no biggie to me."

"No! Your wounds aren't fully healed, it could be fatal if they open up." It's hard to keep the fear out of her voice, and he narrows his eyes at her.

"...I said it's no big deal," he states in a firmer voice, but she shakes her head fast.

"... _No._ "

Even she's surprised by the conviction and pure desperation in her words. He looks taken aback by her expression, before a small, confused smile spreads across his lips.

"Huh? Ray...?" There's watered-down interest in his voice, even as his eyes turn glassy. "What's... wrong with your face...?"

They slide closed, and she holds her breath as he goes quiet, not pursuing the topic any longer. After a moment, his head slumps, and panic settles back into her heart with the force of a freight train.

 _No, Zack...!_

"...Zack?!" she chokes out, scrambling over to his side. Her eyes are wide as she touches his shoulder, shaking him a little, but he doesn't wake up.

 _Zack..._

She watches him shallowly take in a breath, his chest barely rising visibly, and breathes a short sigh of relief.

 _...It's alright. He's just passed out... He's still alive._

 _I don't know what I would do if he..._

Forcefully throwing that thought out of her mind, she gazes at him a few more minutes before she gets to her feet. Standing over him, she frowns.

 _...But carrying him any further is just not in the cards. I can't very well stand him up and make him walk... Not to mention the blood. Just stitches won't cut it. I gotta stop the bleeding and disinfect his wounds._

Her pained gaze explores the open wound that gruesomely stands out against his clothes, and she winces.

She knows she doesn't have anything on her that will help, and even if she were to reuse Zack's bandages, they're all dirty and would most likely cause an infection sooner rather than later.

Ray casts her gaze down the hall, and her only option stands starkly in front of her. It's not what she wants, especially with Zack in this condition, but...

... _I'll go check if there's any medicine somewhere on this floor..._

The thought of leaving him alone hurts her almost physically, but it's the only way she can help him. If she stayed with him, then chances are he'll either bleed out or the wound would grow infected.

She gazes at his resting face, so much less callous and rough than usual, and she swallows.

"...Zack, hang in there for a bit," she murmurs to him softly. "I promise to make myself useful... So just hang tight until then."

Studying him for just a moment more, she turns around and braces herself, steeling her shoulders and straightening up. Right now, she can't be weak. She has to be the strong one in order for them both to escape.

Zack can't die here, so she has to make sure he lives through this.

 _I gotta hurry._

Down the hall is a wide opening, and Ray heads in that direction, not daring to look back in case her resolve fizzles away into nothing.

While she walks, she notices the odd decor. It seems each master has their own choice of how their floor looks, and this one gives her a strange feeling, almost familiar somehow. The neatly-patterned paneling, with flickering lit candles as the lighting around her, gives off a somewhat nostalgic feeling. It's as if she's been in this place before, or somewhere very close to it.

There's a door off to her right, and she starts to approach it. Reaching out to the handle, her fingers hesitate to twist the knob, and her thoughts flash back to Zack again, his limp body at the forefront of her mind. It's so painful leaving him behind... but she has no choice.

Ray pulls together every ounce of her willpower and thrusts the door open. The moment she does, sound filters out and reaches her ears that had been far more quiet before. The light tones and gentle melody... it rings even more close to home than she thought.

 _It sounds like a pipe organ,_ she realizes, eying the dark room before her. It's pitch black, and she walks in carefully, trying to find a switch or a source of light.

As if in answer to her prayer, candles burst into flame around her of their own accord. It's even more confusing when she inspects the tall candle holders, finding no visible mechanism to trigger it.

 _The lights just came on. This place..._

She shivers lightly, flickering her eyes up to the rest of the room.

 _...gives me a weird vibe._

Ray wanders a little further inside. Below her feet is plush, velvet red carpet that hardly looks used, masking her footsteps. more candles line the room, and she's starting to inspect the farthest end of the room when something crashes behind her.

The girl whirls around immediately, and sees a fallen candlestick lying crumbled on the floor, the flame extinguished. For a moment, it looks as though something came out of the stick— like smoke, from within the holder itself.

 _What...?_

 _Smoke coming from an overturned candle... And this smoke, it sort of has..._

Before she's realized it, her mind's doing funny things without her consent. Ray reaches up, lightly holding her head and finding her vision turning strangely pink.

 _...A sweet... scent..._

For a moment the cloying, sugary smell overwhelms her— and then just as quickly as it came on, it vanishes, leaving her blinking in bewilderment.

 _What just happened...? I spaced out for a second..._

Her gaze turns on the candle, and questions about the smoke enter her mind; then she pushes them away, refusing them for the time being.

 _No, enough about that. I gotta hurry and find Zack's medicine. Whatever it was... it doesn't matter._

Ray turns back around, and moves forward a few steps until the rest of the room becomes visible. The candlelight doesn't provide much aid, but it makes it clear enough for her to make out what it is.

A small building, with a door on either side, sits in front of her. On a pedestal between them is a large open book, left on a certain page. The carpet splits off to either entry, and she studies the stone overlay and trim for a moment before turning her thoughts to the page revealed to her, where a specific paragraph is outlined in blue.

 _'God desires the pure and sincere. Hence I inquire— what art thou? A sacrifice? An angel? Or if thou art someone who seekest salvation from Him... reveal all and repent.'_

The blonde's eyes glue onto the final word, her heart skipping a single beat.

 _...Repent..._

Ray takes a step back, and she trails her gaze up over the building. Large twin crosses sit atop the roof of the tiny building, and something clicks into place like a missing puzzle piece.

 _Is that..._ She squints for a moment, but she's fairly certain of what she sees. _...A confessional in front of me...?_

 _So this place is..._

The familiar sensation she'd gotten just by walking through the previous hallway makes sense to her now, too. Why it felt so strange, why the vibe she got was so unorthodox—

—This place must be... a church...?

 _Salvation..._

Both doors appear to be closed, but one has writing on the front. She reads in the inscription quickly.

' _Bid thy name.'_

 _...I guess it needs my name here._

Pulling back, she clears her throat, and speaks in a clear voice.

"...Rachel Gardner..."

Though she's not sure if she expected just saying her name aloud to work, the door swings open upon her words nonetheless, to her surprise.

 _It opened..._

Her gaze shifts to the side, and she shrugs to herself, already writing off the coincidence. _Makes sense, being a confessional and all..._

The inside of the doorway is darkened, and she can't see much before going fully inside, but she can't help hesitating at the door. She swallows, thinking of Zack. Praying that he's alright.

 _I hope there's medicine in here,_ her heart wishes.

 _...Here I go._

Ray plunges headfirst into the deep darkness. The moment she does, the pipe organ grows louder. No longer background noise, it permeates the very air, ringing in her ears. On either side, there are dim candles flickering, providing little to no light at all to guide her way, and amongst it all...

 _Is it just me, or..._

That blurry pinkness from before is returning, leaving her almost dizzy.

 _..Is the sweet scent getting stronger...?_

A flash of white in her mind, and suddenly everything's normal once more, like the moment of incoherency had been a figment of her imagination. Her eyes scan the room, expecting something odd or out of place, but nothing strikes her in the dark.

 _...Maybe my mind's playing tricks on me,_ she reluctantly admits— until she turns around, and realizes that her assumption is wrong.

The door she'd walked in from is no longer there. The solid oak entry has been replaced by the wood paneling of the wall, impenetrable, even as she searches it for a lock or hidden handle and edges.

 _There's no way out?!_ She backs away slowly, fearful. _Oh no... But Zack's counting on me to find medicine for him..._

 _I gotta find the way out._

She faces the room around her. With no way back to Zack, her only choice is to move forward.

There's hardly anything around her, other than the dim candlesticks. Two different hallways, toward the back of the room, branch off left and right. In the center of them is a single stout chair, the cushions crimson red and the wood frame a deep mahogany. As she nears, she spots something lying neatly on the seat, untouched.

 _A small vial..._ She reaches for it, picking it up easily. It's incredibly light, and she holds it gingerly between her fingertips, not wanting to drop it. _The inside... is empty._

It's an old fashioned vial, made of brown clay. Inspecting it, she realizes that it's a regular ink vial, confusing her further. _Why...?_

The sounds of something scratching methodically at the wall before her makes Ray snap her gaze upwards. The wood paneling, that had once been barren like the rest, is slowly being covered with white writing made of chalk, though there's no hand nor utensil visible to her eyes. The writing finishes and then smashes against the wall in a streak, before stopping.

 _'Profess thy sins! Let a vial serve as testament. Then what dost thou feel upon reflection? A door to perceive thy defilement hath been opened.'_

As soon as she's read the message, something clicks off to her right, and her brows knit together, her wariness growing stronger.

 _...I just heard something unlock._

Her fingers toy with the vial in her hands, and her mouth thins into a small line, trying to make sense of the words.

 _...What does it mean by professing my sin unto this vial...?_

After a moment, she grips the container in her hands and places it into her purse for the time being, inhaling sharply.

 _I have to figure out the meaning in order to get out of here, don't I?_

 _That door that must've opened... it's where I need to go first, then. A 'door to perceive thy defilement'..._

Her feet lead her down the short right hall. There's little there other than a beaten, old-looking wooden door, and she tries the handle cautiously. It slides open without a struggle, as she expects.

The area is narrow, her path left straight by rows of candlesticks guiding her path. She moves further inside, but the only thing that catches her eye is a shining mirror at the end of the room. Her reflection stares back at her, and she can see how her brow is creased with worry, and the pale lifelessness of her own eyes.

 _There's nothing but a mirror here,_ she notes, moving to gaze at herself with scrutiny. AS she does, more writing appears above her head, drawing her attention.

 _'Look well into thyself. Art thou a sacrifice, or the lost? ...Or are you a demon? All God desires... is thine unerring self.'_

She frowns up at the writing, catching her own eyes in her reflection in the glass.

"...What do you mean?" she utters aloud, as if the invisible being will respond to her. "Why the writing on the walls...?"

 _That, and is 'look well into thyself' referring to this mirror?_

Ray studies herself there for a moment. Her white coat has been dirtied by the previous floors, and she could use a bath. Her long, blonde hair is messy and she can't remember when she last brushed it. But...

...Her eyes feel strange. Like they belong to someone else. These emotionless, azure blue orbs that stare back at her... they don't feel her own.

 _This reminds me of when I was on the first floor, B7. When they asked me who I was... and why I was here._

No matter how she stares at herself, nothing changes, and she witnesses the grimace etch out over her lips.

"I can see my reflection here," she whispers quietly. "My reflection is here, but..."

Her eyes flicker in the light.

"...That's all."

More scratching from above. She watches the writing from before vanish, and be replaced with new, almost accusatory words.

 _'Art thou naive? Or simply deceiving thyself? This is the chamber of repentance. If thou wishest to leave this place... Pick up thy shard— and know thyself!'_

The mirror in front of her suddenly cracks. Ray gasps in surprise, watching lines spiderweb through the reflective surface, as if someone hit it with something. She jumps back, just as the shards fly out and fall to the ground, the crackling of the mangled pieces resounding for a few moments before the notes of the pipe organ overwrite it.

Ray steps closer tentatively, glancing at the mess of sharp, uneven pieces on the ground.

 _...It shattered..._

Something seems off about it, too, now that she's looking at it like this. Ray kneels down, noticing that within the pieces, something stares out at her. In fact, the pieces all seem to be connected to one another, yet lie in disarray.

Her own face gazes back at her from the mirror shards, and she picks up the bigger piece that holds half her image, finding it a bit more weighty than she thought. It no longer moves as she does, seeming locked forever in time.

 _My reflection from earlier is still cast in the mirror,_ she notes with mild curiosity, turning it this way and that as if to unveil the trick used.

 _What a bizarre mirror. But, I better take this with me. 'Thy shard' is probably referring to... this shattered mirror..._

After safely putting the piece into her bag, she drifts her gaze along the room, noting nothing else of value around her.

 _If there's nothing else here, then I gotta hurry and find the way out, and search elsewhere._

She quickly exists, deciding that the best place to check next would be the opposite hall. The paths seem to be the same on either end, she notes when she reaches the other door, like reflections of each other. She tries the handle, and it easily opens, like it was waiting for her presence.

Slowly, Ray wanders into the room. It's a short, empty room with only candlesticks for company, the light casting flickering, dancing shadows upon the walls. The only thing of interest is at the far end, a set of white writing similar to the previous, nestled in a black window-shaped space.

 _'Profess thy sin! If thy sin is unknown... Rip it out from thee.'_

...Rip it out?

Ray unearths the shard from her bag, gazing at the black space in front of her. The glass feels heavier than before for some reason, but her own face stares back at her, as if willing her to continue.

 _To rip it out... must I tear through this?_

 _...If this will get me to Zack's medicine, and back to him faster, then..._

Gripping the glass shard in her fingers and feeling the edges dig into her fingertips painful, Ray moves forward quickly and slashes against the dark material.

A large cut spreads from one side of it to another, and for a moment everything is still. Then, as she leans closer to see if something is visible on the other side, the darkness comes to life before her, pouring out of the window-shaped hole and piling at her feet. She doesn't have time to get away from it, or even cry out.

The black tendrils spread over her legs fast, up over her arms, around her neck. It feels encompassing and thick, slimy, disgusting, and her shocked gasp is muffled within the darkness. It wraps around her body, over her eyes, nose, mouth, and for a moment all she can breathe is the confusing, amorphous being that devours her whole.

And then, like the tip of a candle in a gust of wind, her world vanishes.

 **.x.X.x.**

When she can see and hear once more, Ray inhales and finds herself staring around herself, scanning the new surroundings. The transition had been so disturbing that her mind refuses to focus on what had happened, the enveloping darkness being something she can't begin to explain.

This is nothing like where she just was. This room is mildly different, and she has to double-take upon seeing it. The walls around her are _moving_ , the purple-black shapes and patterns pulsing and sliding around her. In the background, lilting, high music box notes filter through the walls. She has to rub her eyes and stare for a few moments to even process such a thing.

 _...What is this place?_

Below her feet is diamond-pattern brown, tan and blue tile, but the more she looks, the more something becomes starkly apparent once more, setting her heartbeat racing through her chest.

 _There's no way out again!_

Facing around, she realizes there's a plaque against the floor with words etched onto its surface, and she furrows her brows at it.

 _There's writing here..._

 _'Are thy sins visible?'_ it inquires of her. _'What thou hast committed is blacked out. Hast thou erased thy sins, or art thou unaware of thy sins? If thou hast lost sight of thy sins, fill it anew and accept those which flow out.'_

 _...Fill it anew and accept...?_

Trying to piece together the logic behind the writing, she glances toward her bag, recalling the item she'd picked up earlier.

 _Does it mean I should fill the vial I have...?_

 _But with what-?_

Her eyes flit to the wall in front of her. On the moving wall, four paintings sit untouched, each depicting a different scene. A boy, hurriedly running down the road at dusk... a snake... a man holding a hunting rifle...

...adn the final is empty. It's a single frame, jet black as if filled with the amorphous from before, and she dares not touch it like this.

 _What do I do? Should I do something with these other paintings?_

 _I need to fill the inkwell..._

She moves back to the painting of the young boy, tilting her head. Nothing seems out of the ordinary with it. What exactly is she supposed to do?

...Wait.

Maybe... just like the black hole she'd ripped apart before, maybe she has no choice but to destroy these paintings? Will it reveal something that way? Maybe if she gets out the vial, they'll leak out the ink she needs?

 _...It's worth a shot._

Ray takes the glass shard and slashes down through the painting, the vial in her other hand. To her surprise, a harsh scream fills the room, and she watches the boy in the painting fall into the black void she created with the rip, vanishing from the image.

That's the only thing that happens, and she frowns deeply.

 _I can't fill this vial with a scream..._

A rustle of paper, and Ray blinks as a painting slips out from the hole, dropping to the floor. She picks it up and eyes it, noting that it depicts a ram alone.

 _What's this for?_

She glances back to the other paintings, stuffing the ram painting away for now. _I'll figure it out, but I need to check these other paintings beforehand._

Ray moves to the man with the rifle, and cuts through it without the hesitance she'd had before. When she does, another painting slips down into her waiting hands, and she looks at it curiously.

 _What could these be for...?_

A sharp click resounds, and Ray straightens up to find the hard, glaring muzzle of a hunting rifle sticking out of the painting, directly aimed at her face.

 _...!_

Ray leaps out of the way, and the rough gunshot rings out through the room. The bullet lodges into the other end of the wall, and vanishes into the pulsating purple scenery. She blinks, inhaling and glancing down at the vial still clutched in her hands.

 _That was close,_ she thinks gratefully. _That gunfire... my vial could've been shattered._

Stuffing the other painting away, she approaches the snake one next. After the last two odd paintings, she's almost not sure what to expect, but she doesn't waste time in cutting apart the painting.

A painting of a ewe appears— and alongside it, something else falls with a heavy thud to the floor. Ray jumps back as the long, angry snake hisses at her, the back black and white.

She swallows, staring at it. _The snake's too big to fit in this bottle... Besides, I've gotta be careful not to get bitten. It could be poisonous._

Ray sidesteps and dodges away from the snake, moving to the other end of the room where the black painting sits empty and waiting. She wracks her brain, trying to think of what to do in this situation.

 _I didn't get ink from any of those. What else can I do with this?_

 _...Those paintings from earlier, though. What if I need to use them here?_

Ray withdraws the three paintings she'd gotten, and frowns.

 _Maybe one of these belongs here in this frame?_

Picking up the ram painting, she places it flat against the black background. Instead of sticking, it vanishes into the void, disappearing without a trace.

 _...Nothing happens,_ she thinks, wondering if that accomplished anything. _Maybe it's missing something._

Next she tries the ewe painting, but it vanishes just like the first. The last, a lamb painting, she sticks in hoping for something, _anything,_ to happen.

 _Please, I have to hurry. Zack is waiting for me._

Suddenly the frame moves. Ray takes a step back— wary of the snake's whereabouts— and watches as an image forms inside the painting. A picture of a sheep family, the ewe, lamb, and ram all together. As if they'd merged within the black to form a whole. But other than that, nothing occurs, to her disappointment.

 _The painting is now complete, but nothing happened._

She frowns at it, until the words from before echo back into her thoughts, making her rifle through for the glass shard again.

 _'If thou hast lost sight of thy sins, fulfill it anew and accept those which flow out'. Which means..._

The glass reflects in her hand, and she stares back, eyes darkening.

 _...I need to damage this painting...?_

Swallowing quickly, Ray brings the edge of the mirror down into the painting, ripping a large gash into the canvas. As she does, red liquid pours out from the wound in the image, dripping down over the frame and staining the floor below. Her eyes light with thought.

 _I think I can put this liquid into the vial._

Placing the vial under the liquid, she watches the steady stream drip into the container. She waits until it fills nearly completely before stoppering it and withdrawing the now-full container.

Suddenly the world flashes around her, a mixture of white, pink, and then black. She closes her eyes reflexively, and only opens them when the familiar sounds of the pipe organ return to her ears.

She's back in the room where the black darkness had swallowed her, standing in the exact same place. It's as if she never left, and her brain whirls in confusion.

 _...What just happened?_

Her fingers are still tightly wound around the full ink vial, and she glances down at it, trying to figure out her next step. The back and forth, along with the strangeness of it all, wears on her.

 _I put the liquid in the vial... so what now?_ She examines the bottle more, trying to figure out the contents. Even though her feet are still in the same place as before, the crimson liquid inside it means that the room she was in wasn't just an illusion.

 _...Beats me. It doesn't look like medicine either..._

Glancing back around the room, she shakes her head. _There's nothing of use here. I'll go back and have a look elsewhere._

Ray quickly leaves the room, the wood thudding to a close behind her. She moves to the middle room once more, but the air feels different. It's as if something has shifted, and she sees just what's changed when she faces the area again.

Where that chair had once sat, now is open space and a large set of double-doors. They're fancy and well detailed, and quite study. The sight of them sends her for a loop, because she _knows_ there was no way they were there before.

 _A door... This wasn't here earlier. It shouldn't_ _be_ _here._

 _...Oh well. Now I can finally get out of here._

Though relieved that she no longer has to stay in this area, the doors feel intimidating somehow. She steels herself, knowing she has to hurry. Zack can't wait on her forever.

 _Here I go..._

Palms flat against the doors, she throws them open, stepping forward. When she does, it's like the darkness within swallows her completely for a moment. She can still walk, but she only takes a single step when the doors shut behind her, vanishing from existence like a figment of her own imagination.

The area she's in is wide, large and dark. She can't tell where the floor is, or where the walls are, if any All she has to go on are the hundreds of candlesticks throughout the place, there to illuminate her path. However, they're all haphazard and in no specific order, leaving her to her own devices.

 _...It's so dark,_ she protests internally, glancing from place to place. There's nothing she can tell apart from the rest. Right now, it looks like she's wandered into an endless space.

 _This is gonna be hard to navigate, let alone search for Zack's medicine... Plus, this place also has... that sweet scent._

The smell she'd kept coming across is now full-force around her again. It's so odd and but in a way it's unpleasant. It's too sickly sweet, cloying and suffocating, almost thick.

 _What's with this... this smell...? It's sweet, but has a fishy odor to it..._

Before she'd realized, that pink haze is trying to take over, before receding back into her mind. The smell remains, but it's a little less strong now. Her mind was starting to play tricks on her this time, and her thoughts went blank.

 _..I'm spacing out again._

She frowns at the missing door behind her, becoming frustrated with the awfulness of the situation. Like this, she can hardly make any headway in helping Zack. if this keeps up... she'll be too late.

 _...Why does this happen whenever I'm in a hurry?_

 _Anyway... I've gotta find my way out again. Zack's in trouble._

With no point of guidance or direction, the feat of escaping this place seems insurmountable— but Zack's counting on her, and she can't stop here. She has to save him.

Ray starts off in a random direction. Her footsteps make no sound, and the only thing she can hear is her own heartbeat and the pipe organ playing endlessly in the background.

Except... there's a slightly sticky, wet sound coming from her.

Ray glances back, and to her shock, the few steps she's taken are imprinted on the floor. Her bootprints are bright red, stark against the dark floor. Her mind starts to grow fuzzy again, the fishy sweetness overwhelming her senses for a moment.

 _My prints are bright red..._

 _...This isn't my blood. But then, whose is it...?_

Her thoughts are jumbled, and hard to coherently understand. She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the dizzyness.

 _...It doesn't matter. This is no time to sit idly by. I gotta hurry and tend Zack's wounds._

Ignoring the heavy red prints and her own growing disorientation, Ray fights through the darkness. The candles feel strange, everything tinted a faint magenta, and she's becoming more and more uncomfortable every passing second.

 _I have to... get out of here..._

A few moments of aimless wandering pass, and she's starting to wonder if she's lost to this place. Is this part of some punishment for her? For being a sinner? Cathy's laughing face attacks her consciousness, and she fights it away.

 _No... no!_

She bumps into something then, and she gets nearly knocked backwards. Ray hadn't noticed it as she was walking, thanks to her messy train of thought, but as she looks it over, she realizes it's a another set of double doors, exactly like the previous. It's thin and doesn't seem to go anywhere, but she steps up to it anyways. Anything's better than here.

 _Found it. A door..._

 _I can hear music playing further inside..._

Ray stumbles into the doors and presses them forward. Every move feels odd, like it's portrayed by a puppetteer in the sky rather than her own choices. She moves forward through it, into another hazy area that's a bit smaller. Candlesticks guide her onward.

 _That sweet scent is getting stronger... Maybe it's the smell, but I'm starting to feel woozy._ She stumbles a bit more, unable to keep herself balanced. _Yeah... definitely feel groggy._

The music is much louder now, like it had been before, as if it's pouring directly into her ears. As she moves, it only heightens in volume.

 _This pipe organ music... where is it coming from?_

Her question is answered as she heads toward the source of it all. Before her is another plaque with words carved into it, and farther behind it is a large organ. However, not a soul sits near it to play; instead, the keys play themselves, and she watches the notes press perfectly in sync, the music continuing on without delay.

 _So, that must be it..._

Her eyes drift to the plaque, glancing over the words through her straining gaze.

 _'Why dost thou repent? Is thine heart which repents for salvation, genuine? Can thou consecrate thine sins to God? Yet, thine sins remain unseen in thine heart. If ye seek salvation, reveal thine sins here.'_

The old-English wording only proves to hurt her head, mixed with the nasty sweetness of the air around her.

 _'Reveal thine sins here'? None of this makes any sense to me. But... I'll be saved if I do what it says? Does that mean I can get out of here...?_

She approaches the pipe organ slowly, As she nears, she can see an angel embossed on the outside, singing silently in harmony with the organ. The keys don't falter with her presence.

Trying to think of what action to take through her pink haze, she remembers the vial she has in her purse, waiting to be used. The words from before echo in her mind, from far before.

 _I possess a vial of red ink..._

The more she thinks about it, the more she doesn't know why she's even considering this action, but she has little other choice.

 _Soiling this picture would be wrong... but maybe using this liquid will show my sins?_

Ray uncaps the vial, meeting the eyes of the still angel— and before she can let herself think more rationally somehow, she splashes the red ink all over the angels' figure.

Instantly the music stops. Silence emanates from everywhere, much for demanding than the soothing melody, and for a fleeting moment she thinks that she's made a horrific error.

Then, the music resumes, much louder, crescendoing and rising in pitch. It's far less peaceful, filled with emotions and unspoken threads of meaning. In a way, it feels annoying, and she can't help the way it makes her already-frazzled mind pound.

"...Quiet down," she tells it irritably, backing away and wincing.

The music is poking at her head, and it amplifies the effects of whatever's got a hold of her. She closes her eyes, wishing it would stop.

 _My ears and head ache like crazy..._

She falls to her knees, unable to fight the onslaught of dizziness. The pounding is drumming at her, chipping away her sanity easily, and she begs God to let it stop. She has to help Zack, she has to return, she has to find him medicine— please, let her be...!

Her mind goes white, and she prays that she'll be released from this dark place soon. Her only priority is finding a way to save Zack.

 _Please...!_

After a moment, she realizes the music has stopped. Thankfully, too, has the pain through her consciousness. Her hands, which had pressed against her ears in an effort to block out the music, slowly lower. She rises to her feet, opening her eyes to see that she's once more been taken somewhere different.

The pink haze has vanished, along with the sweet smell for now, and she finds herself in the middle of a full-blown cathedral. Before her lie stained glass windows, the beauty and color expressly shining over her and the clean tile below her feet. The organ she'd splashed with the bloodred ink is still there, covered in the red liquid. As she casts her gaze around, noting the empty pews and wide, comfortable-looking spaces on either side, she finds herself filled with wonder.

 _...It's... A church..._

There's a sharp click from somewhere, and suddenly the pipe organ is active once more, the keys pressed in unison to create the normal melody from before. She squints at it.

 _The organ's playing again..._

Ray begins to approach it, reaching out to touch the keys— when the sounds of unfamiliar footsteps resound behind her. She whirls around quickly, facing the pedestal at the center, and watches a man come toward her with methodical steps.

The moment she sees him, she can sense the air change. He gives off some kind of calming aura. The man is dressed in a long purple robe and a black suit, and his graying hair is slicked back and neat. His attire is formal and he stands with his back ramrod straight, drawn up to his full height which towers over her even though he's standing a few feet away. He has an angular nose and a short mouth, and his eyes are a blank, milky white— completely missing irises or pupils. The pallor of his skin is comparable to the deceased, and she can sense authority in his movements.

 _...!_ Instantly her fight or flight instinct kicks in. Ray backs up until she bumps into the organ, staring into the somehow piercing gaze of the man before her.

He comes around the pedestal and she quickly moves off to the right, trying to keep an even amount of distance between them so she can run if necessary. All her time spent with Zack feels like it's come back into play, and she doesn't break eye contact, bracing herself to sprint.

The two stand on either side of the pipe organ. His hands are behind his back, but he gazes down his nose at her. His strong jaw clenches as he thinks, and he eyes her a few moments.

There's silence for a few heartbeats, before he speaks to her, his words firm and stately, as proper as he appears.

"...Who art thou?" he inquires deeply.

Ray takes another step back, her mouth sealed from answer, but he doesn't waver nor stop questioning.

"Why dost thou hold thy tongue?" To punctuate his sentence, he moves closer to her, and she inhales sharply.

"...The question is... who are _you?_ " she forces through her teeth, keeping her voice steady.

His expression never wavers, staying stern.

"I am the preacher of this church. You may call me Gray."

The word 'preacher' echoes in her thoughts, unsettling her. She knew she recognized his attire, but to realize he's actually a priest... In a way, it takes her off guard.

"...A preacher?" she repeats, but she shakes his head.

"I believe it is now your turn," he presses.

At first Ray bites her tongue. Her every cautionary instinct is telling her to run back to Zack's side, but from here she has no idea where he is.

 _But... as a priest, could he really be so awful?_

"...Rachel Gardner," she finally says aloud, her name bitter across her tongue. Before she can second guess herself, she follows up with; "Reverend, are you... the resident of this floor?"

He pauses to think, before nodding in confirmation. "Veritably... I suppose to you, I am a resident of this place."

Her concern and fear shoots up like a lightning strike through her bloodstream, and she can't help backing away again. Not looking behind her, she topples over the candlestick which was placed just behind her back, the decoration falling into a crumbled heap against the tile. She doesn't dare look down at it, in case he tries to pull something while she's not paying attention.

Gray watches her for a moment, taking note of her obvious wariness.

"Ne'er fear, my child," he tells her assuredly. "I still have yet to determine your nature. Until I learn more about you, I shan't pass any sort of judgment."

 _Judgment...?_

The comment leaves her feeling uneasy, her mind swirling with a thousand different thoughts. What could he possibly mean by that? Still, she has no room for making quick conclusions.

"That's... fine..." she hedges tentatively.

"So then, what brings you here?" he asks her, his tone friendly yet prying.

Her mind flashes to Zack. Her chest feels like an open, yawning hole. At this moment, he's still bleeding out on the floor, probably unconscious. She's running out of time.

Would there be a point telling Gray her desire to find medicine? Would he care, or is this a ploy for him to exploit her somehow? Though she's instinctually afraid to speak up, something about him feels like it's urging her to open up, to spill out whatever she's thinking— and she does.

"...I'm looking for something to stop bleeding," she mumbles, her face grave, and he raises a brow.

"Ah... a hemostat, is it?" he glances away, pondering her words a moment. "That is what that Zack fellow requires, is it not?"

His use of her ally's name leaves her speechless for a moment, causing her to fear her words.

 _What does he know about Zack?! No, don't tell me that he might have...?!_

"...That's right," she admits slowly, testing the waters. "But how did you know that?"

Gray's mouth quirks into a half smile. "Of course, I'm more familiar with them than anyone. Regrettably... there is nothing here for treating wounds. Such remedial items could only be found..."

His white eyes pin her in her place as he speaks, his words carrying heavy weight.

"...On B5. Daniel's floor."

Dr. Danny's name immediately brings unwanted images back. The man Zack had killed below when he tried to take her eyes...

But what's worse is the thought of what the priest implies. The only way to get the medicine that Zack needs, means having to go down to B5 once more. Trekking back to where her journey began with Zack... the very thought feels wrong in its own right. That, and how could she even get back down there anyways? The elevators have stopped working.

"Oh no," she breathes out, the horror evident on her features. "Then how do I get back below...?"

"You desire to return below?" he affirms, and she cringes before nodding.

"...Yes."

 _If it's the only way... I have to._

Gray seems to confirm something for himself, as if taking mental notes. "...Such a wish should not prove arduous. Come, and I shall see it through."

Ray nearly gapes at the older man, amazed by his suggestion.

"...Go with _you_?"

"Yes, my child," he replies, "I know the way."

His offer is too good to be true, surely. She knows that from the bottom of her heart, yet... right now, if she hesitates, then... Zack will die. If Zack dies here, because of her... She won't deserve her own death.

Her blue eyes flicker to Gray's tentatively. "...Can I trust you?"

His face is serious, not a trace of deceit upon it. "My word is my bond. Yet, before we go, you must first pass a bit of a test."

"A test...?" she echoes, blinking.

"It be not a toilsome task, my child. I merely desire to know more about you."

Her resounding silence hangs in the air, as she bites the inside of her cheek, but he seems unaffected by it. Instead, he continues on.

"I seek not an immediate answer. Let your heart choose. I shall remain here for awhile."

His sentences proves the end of their conversation, and he moves to gaze upon the stained glass at the forefront of the room. She gazes at him for a moment, her entire mind a whirlwind of ideas and thoughts.

 _So he's the only one who knows how to get back below?_

So many questions, and this looming choice, hang above her head. It worries her knowing how much weight is on her shoulders, but she knows there's little else she can do. But if Gray is lying, and it's a trap...

 _...I'll go check on Zack and see how he's doing,_ she finally concludes, moving toward the farthest exit of the room. _Before I make any quick decisions..._

As she exits the cathedral, she finds herself back where her weird, unprecedented journey began before— the confessional. It takes her by surprise to appear here, especially after the places she traversed between here and the church behind her.

 _...I passed through this place. But it sort of feels like I may have skipped several rooms...?_

 _Not to mention..._ Ray rifles through her bag, finding it lighter than before. _The mirror shard and the inkwell have vanished, too. Could I have imagined everything that happened? Was that the result of some odd drug or something? An illusion?_

 _...It doesn't matter. I have to see Zack right now._

Ray hastily runs back to the hall to the elevator. When she turns the corner, she gasps audibly at the sight that awaits her.

Zack's fallen body is lying haphazardly on the floor, a few feet from where she'd leaned up against the wall. Blood streaks the tile, as if he'd dragged himself to where he now lies, and she wastes no time in running to his side, gingerly touching his shoulder, checking for signs of life.

"...Zack," she calls his name, trying to rouse him.

"... _Shiiit..._ "

His groggy, tired voice mumbles from underneath his hoodie, and she feels the icy pain of relief course through her veins a moment. Without saying a word, Ray, helps him move up to the wall again, using her weak strength to lie him comfortably against the wood paneling. He groans with the action, barely helping her, then running an exhausted hand through his hair.

"...Zack, hold still!" she commands him, but his heterochromatic eyes crack open to gaze at her darkly. She's surprised by the intensity in them.

"...Hey Ray," he lowly addresses her. "Where'd you go...?"

The girl kneels at his feet, meeting his gaze. "I was... out looking for something to stop your bleeding."

"Wha—" He's outraged, his words cutting off by his own inability to follow up for a moment, before he grows angrier. "By _yourself_?! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I mean— I can't very well force you to move, now can I?" she counters back, feeling some of her own frustration let out in her words. After composing herself, she adds, "Plus you were sound asleep."

"Idiot," he spits, rolling his eyes. "Just whack me 'til I get up then!"

"I can't do that." The refusal easily slips off the tip of her tongue, and he sighs.

"Man, you're stubborn... And so did you find anything?"

His question leads her to a painful crossroads. Telling him that she has to return deeper into the building in order to save him isn't exactly her ideal situation, but... she doesn't want to lie to him. After all, he did state that he hated liars...

"No..." she confesses slowly, bracing herself for his reaction. "But, if I go back down to B5, there should be medical supplies."

" _Huuh_?!" Just as she predicted, the awe and confusion in his voice returns full force. "Going back _now?!_ "

She quickly nods, hoping to calm him down. "Yeah... But if I go—"

Zack coughs suddenly, and makes a sharp move to get up in the middle of her words. He proves only wobbly, and falls onto his side unceremoniously, forcing her to leap forward to help him.

"Zack...!" she cries, her brows knitting together worriedly. "Relax for _one second_ in your life...!"

He curses under his breath, casting a glare her way. "Zip it! What am I, five years old?"

The hooded boy straightens up again, lifting his scythe up with a tightly clenched fist. The weapon shakes in his grasp, and he has to quickly place it down again with a disgruntled growl.

"My scythe's heavy as hell," he remarks distastefully. "This doesn't make a lick of sense."

"No, you _rest_ ," she says forcefully, feeling the urge to pull his scythe out of his reach. Instead, she kneels by his side, peering into his face.

 _Even through his bandages, I can tell he's in pain... He's so weak..._

"...I'll go below to get your medicine. Zack, you lie down and take it easy," she states firmly, and his eyes flicker to hers.

"...Huh?"

"Zack, you'll _die_ ," she tells him gently, trying to convince him. "Your scythe being heavy is your body telling you that something's not right."

He sneers at her, gritting his teeth. "Don't assume I'm a goner. Got that? You know I won't die so easily, right?"

"But..." she whispers, and his eyes widen a little by her tone. "...Pretty please, Zack. Give me a chance to actually help you."

Her genuine wish is evident in her words, and he looks taken off guard by her request. Then he coughs, waving it off with a limp hand and trying to play off his reaction.

"'Please'? Don't think for a second that I'm gonna let you just because you said 'please'!" he laughs, but she doesn't let up on him. Her blue eyes burn into his own intensely.

"...Please," she repeats, leaning toward him, and it's silent as he opens his mouth to retort and then shuts it again. He can't seem to find words to counter her with, and he finally grumbles to himself.

"...I'll cave," he finally admits, making her more than grateful he doesn't have the energy to put up a stronger fight. "Anyway, how you gonna get down there?"

His inquiry trips her up and she stumbles over her words, her gaze glancing away as she tries to figure out an excuse.

"...Oh, uh..." She takes a deep breath, tilting her head. "I'll... manage..."

Zack gazes at her for a moment, and she sees that little flicker of something she's caught only a few times before cross his face. Though his expression is doubly hard to read most times thanks to his mask of gauze, she's been around him enough to catch most of his quirks.

"...Can you really manage by yourself out there?"

The quiet, serious question bothers her by how solemn he sounds, but she nods. She can't tell him how worried she is, or how much she wishes he'd be by her side through it.

This time... she has no choice but to go alone.

"...Yeah," Ray tells him softly.

He stiffens, before relaxing his shoulders and pressing his back to the wall. He drapes an arm over his knee, frowning.

"...Fine. Right now I can't even carry my scythe." Zack raises his hand, gazing at the bandaged limb and then gripping it into a fist. "...I'd prolly just be extra baggage like this anyway."

"No." Her answer is so quick and short, so confident in her certainty, that he turns his head to stare at her through narrowed eyes.

"What else would I be, then?" he counters her, before sighing. "...but if you think you'll survive, then go for it!"

He settles into his spot, and his fingers gingerly trail over his abdomen, wincing as they near the sore bleeding gash nestled in his hoodie.

"...You're right. My stomach's killin' me, and I can't move..." he confesses almost inaudibly, words meant only for her ears, before his eyes slide closed. "I'm gonna get some shut eye."

Ray gazes at him a moment longer. "...Okay."

 _Thank you, Zack... for trusting me._

Knowing her choice has been made, she gets to her feet, ready to leave him be. As she begins to walk away, his voice echoes through the hall.

"...Hey."

She turns back around, raising a brow questioningly, and he glances up at her.

"...While you're at it, hit B6 too," he requests her.

"Huh?" she says in surprise.

His eyes trail downwards as he talks, toying with the handle of his blade.

"B6's where I first found you... I want you to bring me something from there." A ghost of his familiar smile flickers over his lips, and she simply nods her head in confirmation.

"...Got it."

He shakes his head slowly, before he closes his eyes again. After a moment, his head droops, a sign of his unconsciousness. Ray studies his sleeping form for a few seconds, her heartbeat in her ears.

 _...Zack passed out again. With an injury like that... I don't blame him._ She turns away then, pulling together her own strength. _...I'll go see that preacher._

Casting a last glance, she hurries out and back to the cathedral, her footsteps resounding loud in the halls of the floor, until she's slowing to a halt in the center of the church once more. Gray is awaiting her there at the pedestal, his demure face expressionless.

"Hast thou come to a decision?" he asks her properly.

Ray clears her throat, before pulling herself to her full height.

"...I need to go back down to B5 to get some medicine," she confirms. "So I'll take your test."

He seems pleased by her choice, nodding his head. Not a single hair falls out of place with the action, and he seems far more ethereal than he should in this place.

"Hmm... So be it. Let us be off then," he replies.

Though her insides churn uncomfortably, she complies. "...Okay."

Before they walk, though, she pipes up again, something else coming to mind that had been eating at her until this moment. A request she can't leave this floor without making.

"...Oh, and do me a favor," she tells him, channeling her inner Zack for willpower. "Please don't do anything to Zack."

The older man gazes upon her for a moment, before smiling at her.

"...Of course."

They turn to begin moving along. At that moment, as he moves to walk by her side, the fishy sweetness of that odd odor pours into her nose, casting a wave of lethargy over her. She winces, her eyes flickering over the unexplainable, mysterious man next to her.

 _Why is it... I smell that sweet scent coming from him...?_

 **.x.X.x.**

Their footsteps ring around them, a double set. One a light, fleeting pair, and the other a much heavier, yet pristine walk.

Ray and Gray wander past Zack's unconscious self, and she can't help looking his way to check that he's still breathing. His chest rises lightly, enough of a sign that he's alright for the time being, but she knows that he won't make it long.

She makes sure to carefully keep herself between Gray and Zack as they move, and the older man activates the elevator doors for her.

"...It seems you felt compelled to keep me away from Zack," he comments with interest. "You needn't keep a watchful eye on me; no harm shall come to him by my hand."

She's silent, but her furrowed brows say it all for her. She can't help but fear what this man is capable of, since he seems to be able to freely traverse the floors.

 _He might be trying to help me, but there may be an ulterior motive. I don't know what might happen._

 _Zack... please, hang in there. I'll come back soon._

Gray turns to her, his smile small yet seemingly genuine.

"...Shall we get going, Rachel Gardner?"

His usage of her full name feels unnecessary, but she simply takes a final glance at the boy lying prone and weak by the wall, and then dives headfirst into the elevator. Gray follows suit, and the doors shut behind them, sealing their journey with finality and cutting her off from Zack.

 _Please... don't die. I'll be back as soon as I can, so please..._

 _... Wait for me to get back to you, Zack._

* * *

 _A/n: Lightly edited.  
_

Hey guys! Uploading a day earlier than my one week quota! Hope y'all are excited. I know it's a tad shorter, but we're gonna get into the meat of Gray's floor here in the next chapter. Speaking of... It's shocking I'm already in episode 3 right now. That means there's only a few more chapters left, huh? I've been really enjoying writing this, and I hope you're enjoyed my chapters. I've been praying I've been doing the story the justice it deserves. This, mixed with my new permanent job (yay for me! :D) hopefully this is alright!

Anyways, talk to y'all in next update. Hopefully my wifi will be back soon, too... but who knows when. Keep an eye out for my updates though! Love y'all.

Read on~.

Disclaimer~ I only own the illusion of life and the sin of enjoying this, nothing more.


	12. Revisiting The Past

The ride down is awkward.

Ray shifts from foot to foot in the elevator, her cautious blue orbs stealing glances at the stiff, straight preacher nearby. His proper appearance combined with his pupil-less eyes only serves to make her wary of him.

Yet, despite her apprehension about going anywhere with him, she's still here in this enclosed space with the master of floor B2. Zack's well-being is far more important than her own concerns, and if doing as this man says is what it takes to get him medicine... she won't hesitate to follow through. Although he's such a mysterious, unexplainable man that she can't figure out if he's truly a good person.

A priest is supposed to be someone on the path of righteousness, someone who does God's work. Someone like that is supposed to do good things, but since he's the master of his own floor in this place... What does that say about the kind of person he is?

Gray catches her eye, and she glances away from him, not realizing she'd been staring in his direction with her prying thoughts. The silence reigns unbroken for a few moments, the only sounds the rolling wheels and pulleys of the elevator shaft.

The man clears his throat and then speaks, his deep, powerful voice addressing her.

"...Why do you help Zack cling to life?" he inquires.

Slowly she looks at him, flickering her gaze between him and the door. He's smiling, seeming friendly, and it does reassure her a little. The words still seem hard to utter, however, no matter how kind he appears.

 _Why do I...?_

The answer isn't simple even in her own mind, but she tries to say it in a way that might be clear.

"...If he were to die... I'd be lost," she tells him softly. He raises a brow.

"Be lost...? What do you mean?"

Ray takes a deep breath.

"It's because... I want Zack to kill me." The confession rings in the air between them, and she adds on, "...Zack made an oath to God."

"Interesting," he notes aloud. "...So that is your incentive. Heavens... 'Tis a terrible oath you have forged."

He offers her a small smile, but she can see something turning in his thoughts already, something behind the kindness he places before her. His words hold no malice or condemnation, but rather... something she can't place.

And, alongside that... The longer she stands in this elevator, the odder she feels. As she stands behind him, she can feel herself grow dizzy and foggy-minded, and that familiar yet uncomfortable smell is in the air again, cloying and filling her nose.

 _Just as I suspected... The sweet scent—_

 _...It's coming from him._

 _There's no denying it now. I don't know what it is, or why it radiates off of him like a cologne, but..._

Her head is beginning to ache like before, and her thoughts run off in different directions. There's so much confusion in her mind with the reaction to the scent that for a moment, she can't even form coherent words. Until—

" _...Rachel_."

It's as if his voice is in her head, piercing through her thoughts and becoming the only clear thing she can focus on. Gray's voice presses into her consciousness like a heavy weight, each syllable falling upon her muddied brain.

" _...Rachel Gardner._ "

"...Ah."

Ray opens her eyes. She hadn't even realized she'd closed them, nor that she'd walked out of the elevator with Gray. He's standing beside her, watching her carefully.

The world around her seems wrong. The floor their on doesn't feel familiar at all, and she's reminded of when she was running through that funhouse-like situation trying to find Zack medicine before. The walls pulse around her, patterns and shapes forming and undulating over the chipping paint. Her eyes don't want to focus properly, but she forces herself to blink rapidly and rub them to fix her sight.

"...Well, for now we have arrived on B3," the priest tells her, unknowing of her internal plight and disorientation.

Ray wants to speak, but the action of doing so stumps her for a moment, as does the blurriness of her vision. She clears her throat, searching for words, and he narrows his gaze.

"...What is the matter?"

"...It's nothing," she finally replies. "I just had something in my eyes, that's all..."

For some reason, the amount of rational thoughts she can process allows her to think somewhat carefully on what she tells the man. Inside, she knows she doesn't want to explain or mention the oddness of her surroundings. Thankfully, though, her eyesight is beginning to clear up more— though the bizarreness of the floor persists.

 _What is wrong with me...?_

Gray studies her meticulously for a moment, then steps aside, softly gesturing down the hall with a smooth motion.

"Henceforth, all I can do is offer you sage advice," he explains to her, and her brows knit together in misunderstanding.

 _Advice? But... isn't he supposed to come with me?_

 _I'm supposed to go alone and do this...? And with the floor looking like_ _this_ _...?_ Already she can feel herself questioning her own abilities. The preacher watches her worried expression and shakes his head.

"No need to be intimidated; it shan't prove difficult," he says, relaxed. "To operate the elevator leading down from here, thou must find its mechanism and press the switch. The B3 switch is located in the jail."

He shrugs lightly and gazes at her unflinchingly.

"If you can press it, then I shall open up the elevator."

With that final sentence hanging between them, the man turns on his heels and walks away. The sounds of his steps fade, and she blinks, starting to feel a little more like herself.

 _...The jail... That's where Zack stomped on that arm that was sticking out from one of the cells..._

 _...Time to get moving._

She follows the hall out, retracing her steps. It feels strange to be back on B3 already, especially after everything Zack and her went through to get out. And with the psychedelic effects and such going on right now, it's almost as if she's on an entirely different floor.

When she reaches the exit, Gray is waiting for her.

"Cathy's penchant for deception has made floor B3 more trap-laden than any other," he says, remarking about the deceased as if measuring out his respect for her. He gazes around the next hall with peering eyes. "She was gifted in using them to reach people emotionally, and thus lead them to seek self-reproach and salvation. Though she always was a bit of a spendthrift... Let us call it one of her charms, shall we?"

He turns to her, his expression serious. "...Hence, there could still be some here seeking self-reproach and salvation."

It's like he's pressing her with his words, trying to make her realize something or understand it, but it passes through her without much registering. As she tries to make sense of it, he nods his head.

"Now then. I will go ahead and wait by the elevator that descends to the floors below," he tells her, and she simply purses her lips.

"...Okay."

He bows his head, then moves off in the direction of the other elevator down. Ray goes into the wide, quiet hall, her ears lightly ringing without reason.

 _I am fairly sure the jail was further down this way. I gotta make this quick. Zack... Please hold on._

The thought of him fading away above her makes her push past the light blurry haze in her mind, and she walks through the passageway from before, when they'd had to take their pictures for Cathy's amusement. Moving past the barrier, she recalls the way the entrance to the jail had been— barred off, but opened to them with the woman's offer of eternal imprisonment.

Re-entering the hall where the master of B3 had left her cryptic puzzle doodles, Ray finds herself stopping in surprise at the sight of the bars lifted on the jail hallway.

 _...The iron bars are open. I should be able to get to the jail cells through here._

Not wanting to stay in the unpleasant dizzying atmosphere around her any longer, she strides through, her boots meeting the metal floor under her with clanging noise. In seconds she's on the other side, in the jail area. Memories of Zack crushing the hand of the person in that cell flash over her mind's eye.

... _I've gotta keep going._

The moans have stopped, and she wonders if there are anyone left still alive in the cells around her. Taking a few steps forward, she's about to assume they've all died when she hears it— the blood-curdling, grieving cries of the dying, ramping up in loud chorus.

 _I still hear voices_

The prison cells are no longer pitch black, but fully visible to her eyes with vivid colors. Yet there's nothing of value inside, to her chagrin, so she keeps going forward in pursuit of the switch.

The further inside she goes, the louder the moans become. Now she's starting to wonder if there's truly anyone crying out from within the cells, or if she's losing her mind. The odd shapes and sounds, the scent of blood and decay, the way her vision doesn't want to behave properly... Could there be something truly wrong with her? Maybe she's been going insane since the very beginning.

...No, that can't be. Especially now— despite the way she can't function as well as normal, she's still able to keep together her thoughts, now that she's away from Gray. Maybe this all has something to do with him?

 _Could he have done something to me...?_

Ray finds herself back at the cell where the lifeless, brittle arm had reached out at her from the black depths. The crushed limb is still in bits in a puddle of its own crimson, congealing blood, and she gazes at it distastefully.

 _This was the only place where that arm-looking thing popped out..._

Turning her eyes into the cell, she spots something half hidden within. It's hard to make out with the flashes of muted color and whatever else, but she grips the cell bars in both hands, widening her eyes.

 _Something's there...! Is that the switch he mentioned? Can I reach it?_

The door is unmoving, but the switch is just within arm's reach. Ray kneels down on the grimy floor, pushing her arm between the open slots and trying to place her hand on it.

 _Just a little... further..._

A noise that sounds entirely wrong and unpleasant draws her gaze to her left, and she watches as the bloodied remains of the hand begin to move.

 _...!_

Something starts to form, the inky mess crumbling away and coalescing into the air — creating a bloodred, human-like shape. As it forms, it reaches out to her, and she yanks her arm from the hole, stumbling back in shock.

 _...Run!_ her mind shouts.

Throwing herself to her feet in a hurry, she feels an icy shiver rolling down her spine. Just the sight of the being gives her the impression that being caught by it would be fatal, and she doesn't waste time flying off the way she'd come.

Around her, the human-like, faceless creatures undulate from the walls, melting from the floor into her path. She has to swerve around and avoid touching them, coming narrowly close to diving headfirst through one. The moans are louder now, coming from everywhere, and she knows only one thing: _run faster._

Stumbling back into the room with Cathy's drawings, she braces herself against the wall, balancing herself against it and catching her breath. Whatever they were, they don't follow her past the jail entrance, returning back into the dark.

 _...What were those things?! I can't get into the jail like this... Those things are in the way._

The problem they pose before her leaves her stumped and frustrated. Those creatures stand between her and saving Zack's life.

 _I can't use my gun anymore... What do I do now?_

...Wait.

 _...I've got it._

The girl's eyes widen as she works out her thoughts. _This floor has traps all over the place. There should at least be a way to deal with them when they come out of their cells. I'll check out the room with the machine that controls this floor._

Using this idea to give herself a spot of hope, she hurries back through the winding, connected hallways of Cathy's floor. Although she had been consumed by worry for Zack when they'd left the floor, she can still recall where to go, and after a few minutes she arrives back at the upper platform where the woman had controlled their fates. Ray barely takes a step forward before she realizes something that makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

The wide open shooting arena below is dotted with the bloodstains from Zack and Cathy... but that's all that remains. Cathy's body no longer exists in its place, and all that's left of her is the bloodstained riding crop and the severed hand she'd left behind. The memory of leaving the woman there, her lifeblood flooding the tiles, makes her uncomfortable to see it vanish.

 _Why...? She was dead. Zack killed her, I_ _know_ _he did, so... how...? Why?_

Though it troubles her, she shakes it from her mind for now. Her priority at the moment is rescuing Zack, and that's all. And saving him, means getting rid of those creatures that bar her path.

Ray approaches the large control device. buttons are lined all over it, some labelled, some not. Thankfully she's a bit familiar with electronics and technology like this, but it takes her a few moments to figure out what's what.

 _I should be able to bring up a security video here..._

A few button presses and she finally has the jailroom on the big screen before her.

 _It's this room. And the device mechanism for this room...?_ She fumbles with the keys and buttons, trying to trial and error her way through the process. _This is harder than I thought. Is this it?_

Thankfully, she stumbles upon the answer, and the screen zeroes in on a targeting device. A camera overlooking the entire floor gives her access to the array of guns at her disposal.

 _Here we are... From here, I can look at the screen and shoot them._ A nagging thought pokes at her mind, and Ray frowns. _I wonder if she was shooting would-be escapees with this...? Could that be why there's so many of them here?_

Though she feels a twinge of compassion, it quickly fades. Ray readers her fingers against the right buttons, and begins maneuvering the targeting system. It's a bit jagged and hard to control for her untrained hands, but she figures it out.

 _...I'm short on time. Gotta hurry. Zack... can't wait forever. I just need to align the crosshairs, and press this button... Then I can safely enter this room._

Ray steels herself, and then goes at it. Pinpointing one of the rapidly moving creatures, she zooms in, locks on, and presses the trigger.

 _Bang._

Through the camera's audio feedback, she hears a horrific cry of pain come from the creature as it falls to the ground, melting into a gelatinous puddle. She ignores it, and moves to the next without blinking an eye. Her determination to succeed and wipe them out from her path wins out.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

The gunshots ring loud and true. Ray fires bullet after bullet, destroying the creatures one by one. She becomes quite good at pinpointing their legs, where they seem weakest, and ripping through them with a volley of gunfire. She's so concentrated that when she's finally finished, she hasn't taken notice of how much time's passed.

Stepping back from the device, she breathes a sigh of relief, thankful the ordeal is over. Now that the obstacles are out of her way, she can finally press the switch.

 _Now I can pass through safely._

" _Ahahahahahaha!_ "

That awful high-pitched laughter fills the hall around her, and Ray whirls around immediately, disbelieving her ears. Yet her eyes give her the same information.

Below the stairs, standing above her own blood pool, Cathy's ghostly figure laughs mirthlessly, glaring up at her. Those venomous green eyes pierce through Ray, and her voice is ethereal.

" _What a terrible thing you've done, disposing of those who lament in pain and suffering like yesterday's garbage,_ " she accuses the young girl in a sharp voice. " _And yet you show no emotion! You'll stop at_ _nothing_ _to have Zack take your life! Rachel..."_

She points her riding crop at Ray with a wide, toothy grin.

 _"...you truly are a sinful woman!_ "

Her figure vanishes amongst her own laughter, and Ray backs up in horror, bumping into the control system in her bewilderment.

 _...What was that...?! Wait, it's gone...?_

 _I don't get it..._

The whole situation bothers her, calling her sanity into question once more by her own hand, and she frowns deeply, fingers tightly gripped into the edge of the control system, eyes glued to the place Cathy had stood.

Still... Right now she doesn't have time to ask herself questions. Gray's waiting for her, and she has to hit that switch.

 _...At any rate, I gotta hurry._

Shifting around the control device, she turns her back on the wretched room and runs out, not looking back.

 **.x.X.x.**

 _I shot them all, so I shouldn't be obstructed anymore..._

Back in the jail, Ray's eyes flicker back and forth along the dark corridors. The calls of the dying have stopped entirely now, and she begins to move forward.

... _Ah._

Something pops into her mind, making her frown reflexively, but then she quickly shakes her head.

 _No, this is no time to worry about that now..._

Walking ahead, she notes that each of the blood-colored puddles have disappeared, as if they'd never been there. Any signs of them have completely vanished as well.

 _I'm sure I shot them... There's no trace of them._

Reaching the cell with the switch in it, she again kneels down and sticks her arm through. This time she's successful, and her fingertips press down on the button.

 _Okay, I pressed the switch._

A mechanical noise issues from somewhere in the walls, and she glances about curiously. _That sound... was it the elevator?_

 _I'll go see him now._

Ray leaves the jail again, her business there done. It's no time at all before she's arrived in front of the elevator, where Gray stands in front of it as if he's been waiting patiently for her return. His face is dour, however.

"It appears you managed to press the switch," he says as she stops in front of him.

"Yes, Reverend," she replies quietly.

He raises a brow at her. "And _how_ did you accomplish this feat?"

Ray stares at him, her mouth slightly parted as she thinks of an answer, but not truly understanding his question. He continues at her confusion.

"Did not a soul give chase or impede your progress?" he clarifies.

 _...Oh,_ she realizes.

"...No. Somebody did," she admits to him, letting the words slowly roll off her tongue. "But I shot them all."

His expression doesn't change, but she catches the slightest tension in his eyes.

"Is that so? And what was your reasoning for such an act?"

 _Reasoning..._

Zack's pained expression flies through her thoughts, and her brows press together.

"...Because they were in the way," she finishes.

The priest's lips press together into a hard line, dissatisfied. "...I see. Well, time is short. Let us carry on to the next floor."

With that, he turns and walks into the elevator, and Ray follows suit. She doesn't like the way his face changed, the disappointment that was evident on his face. What was she supposed to say?

Those creatures... they barred her path to Zack. And that was an act considered unforgivable.

The ride to the next floor is quiet and seems to take forever. He doesn't speak, and the friendly smile he'd had before has disappeared. She keeps stealing glances at the older man's face, but he pointedly gazes at the door and not her.

When they stop, he turns to her.

"...Well, we have arrived... Rachel Gardner."

"...Uh-huh."

Ray and Gray step out of the elevator. Eddie's floor looks just as odd and mismatched as Cathy's had, the walls seeming to come to life the moment she sets eyes on them.

"As you requested," Gray intones. "Floor B4. The switch here is within the water temperature control room."

As he begins to walk away from her, she gazes at him, narrowing her searching eyes.

"...Why must you do all of this?" she asks him. The question is unbidden, but his mysterious actions and questioning of her own brings her discomfort.

"What do you mean?" He says, stopping in front of her to raise a brow.

She shakes her head, brushing her blonde bangs from her face.

"...For a while now, your actions have been confusing me. I just want to go downstairs to find some medicine," she says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

 _I have so little time, but stopping on each of these floors... Zack will..._

Gray studies her. His pointed gaze stares holes through her.

"'Tis all for the sake of learning who you are," he responds, and she tilts her head.

"Who I am...?"

"Indeed. For you see..." He crosses his arms behind his back again, never removing his eyes from her. "...you are irregular. A lamentable lamb... or perhaps a demon."

Those words thunder down on her fuzzy thoughts, and she leans back in shock. He continues unfazed, however.

"Also, I am monitoring your actions during this test."

With nothing further to say, he turns his back on her and walks away, disappearing down into Eddie's maze. Ray stares after him, her thoughts fighting to figure out what he's after.

 _...He wants to learn more about me. But that... shouldn't matter to him._

 _What is he up to...?_

Feeling uncomfortable with the way Gray had spoken, Ray begins the trek through the maze. The power generator is still running like she'd left it, but the lights have practically become useless— blues and reds that leave the large room in sparse illumination.

The recent recollection of running from the gravedigger passes through her mind as she walks, and she can't help glancing at the tipped tombstone as she approaches it— before coming to a complete halt at what she sees.

The heavy stone slab that had once sealed over Eddie's grave completely looks as if its been moved. A gap to the dark underbelly is evidence enough, and she feels a deep chill run through her with worry.

 _The gravestone Zack destroyed... has it been moved somewhat...?_

A light, childish giggle rings out near her right, and Ray's head whips around to see a silhouette of a young boy standing before her, the shadow holding a shovel. The high chuckle is unmistakable, but before she can utter a word or react, the figure vanishes before her eyes.

 _...Not again._ This incident is just like B3, and it leaves her breathless and concerned. Her fingers wrap tight against her purse strap.

 _What's wrong with me...? How am I able to see the_ _dead_ _now?_

Albeit considerably distraught over the strange events she keeps experiencing, Ray forces herself to stay strong and composed.

 _...But this is no time to be scared. Zack's life is at stake right now. I can't let these things get to me._

 _He's all that matters._

 **.x.X.x.**

"Upon closer inspection, I see this place has been utterly ruined."

Gray's distasteful tone meets her ears once she's entered the main graveyard. His fingers are tightly wound behind his back, his strong jaw taut as he overlooks the massacred scene.

Ray has nearly forgotten the destructive spree Zack went on while she was figuring out the door mechanisms, and the sight of the crumbling, wrecked gravestones quickly reminds her.

As she approaches the man, he continues. "Eddie was a nice boy, to be true. Furious he must have been, that his graveyards were the target of villainous devastation. Perhaps his kind heart is to blame for his tendency to receive the short end of the stick. A piteous fellow..."

She can't honestly say he seemed 'piteous', when he spouted his nonsensical confessions of love and desire for her to be killed by him. It was nearly a relief, having Zack finish him. But, she can't say she truly knows what kind of person Eddie had been. In fact, she knows nothing about anyone on any of the floor, including Gray.

...Including Zack, too. Only the bits and pieces he's told her, but... that's been enough.

"But," Gray goes on, facing her with his chin raised, looking down at her past his nose. "it is those who were meant to be resting in their graves who should be pitied the most. Eddie was compassionate enough to give them a resting place for the cleansing of their souls; now even that wish shan't be granted."

The girl simply gazes at him. None of his words hold much meaning for her, yet she can tell through his expression that he's conveying something. He simply sighs, and offers her a tiny smile.

"...Well, I shall go on ahead. You may resume your errand."

The older man walks off, and she moves forward. His odd speech aside, she doesn't have time to read into everything he's been going on about. No... first things first, being to press the switch in the water temperature room.

However, she notices something off in front of her. The gravestones... There's something strange about them, and she peers at them.

 _...There's something sticking out from the broken gravestones? Those shouldn't be here..._

The curled, hard to see objects are barely identifiable, but she knows what they look like enough— stuffed red toy hands, peeking up from the messy piles. Yet she still walks past them, heading for the switch and paying them no mind.

 _No need to worry about that now. I've got to go to the temperature control room._ The fake hands could be pondered later, after she's obtained Zack's medicine.

Entering the room on the right, where Zack had busted through the wall to save her from Eddie, she discovers two coffins on either side of the entrance within. Her azure eyes search both with confusion, noting that one is a dirt-brown and the other a light sea-blue. Either coffin is splattered with blood and grime.

 _Were there coffins here before?_ she wonders curiously. Her fingers involuntarily try to lift the lid of the blue coffin, but it's tightly sealed shut, refusing to budge.

 _Where did these come from? And... who do they belong to?_

 _...Never mind. It doesn't matter._

Ray picks up the pace, hurrying into the water temperature room. Stepping over the craggly broken stone, she feels the intensity of the scene in her chest. Reaching up, she lightly grasps her shirt, thinking of the hooded boy and his promise to her.

 _"I swear to God!_ "

Those words were so powerful... And meant so much to her. His voice had rang true, piercing her heart, opening up something that had been locked away.

Zack connected himself to her, and she vowed to do everything in her ability to help him escape— just as he made an oath to kill her. That bond is everything to her.

At the control machine, she peruses the cabinetry and buttons. Nothing immediately pops out at her, except for a refrigerator on the left with a note on.

"'Only for my use'...?" she utters aloud.

Pulling apart the stiff metal doors, a chilly wind rushes out past her. The scent of mustiness and disuse rolls over her, and when she peers inside the container, she frowns.

 _There's nothing inside...?_

Her eyes light on something then. It's deep within the fridge, and she narrows her eyes.

 _...Ah, there's a hole in the back. But... I can't seem to reach it. If I had something long and thin..._

...! That's right! As she'd walked through the last room, she'd noticed the broken, destroyed pickaxe that had been mutilated during Zack's destruction of the wall. Maybe that would work?

Not wasting any time, she runs out to find the pickaxe. The top half of it had nearly snapped off by the time her ally'd been through with it, but it's long. Yet...

 _...It's not long enough. I'll go find something to make it longer._

 _What else could I use, however...? I'll go to the main cemetery and check it out._

Her own footsteps the only sound, she enters the cemetery once again. However, she hears something else joining her footfalls, a strange skittering noise.

Before her, the toy things that had been sticking up from the gravestones have begun moving on their own. Racing along the floor like bugs, they run from her as she approaches.

 _I think they're hand-shaped stuffed toys... I guess it's a moving toy._

Her eyes light with a thought, watching the toys scatter along the cobblestones. They're not really 'long', per se, but... if she ties them to a stick with some string, then...

 _I can use them. But how do I catch them?_

An image of Zack slamming his foot down on the decaying hand of one of Cathy's prisoners re-emerges in her mind, and she tilts her head. It's not the most conventional method, but...

Running forward, she leaps onto one of the toys. It screeches under her as her boots fall upon it, and there's sounds of crunching and breaking pieces. Stumbling a little, she steps off and picks up the limp creature. It wiggles, still trying to function even with the fingers half broken.

 _Not bad. But maybe I should try more of them?_

Ray catches a few more this way, taking about three more. When she has enough, she nods to herself.

 _This should do it. I'll try attaching them to that pickaxe._

Striding toward the door for the pickaxe, she hears something coming up fast behind her all of a sudden. At the door, she whirls around.

One of the moving toys halts at her feet, rapidly moving its fingers as if upset. She frowns down at it, crossing her arms.

"Don't chase me around like that," she says coldly. "I have enough hands now. I don't need you."

It cries out in almost an anguished tone, before vanishing in front of her without a trace. She squints down at the floor, but there's nothing left of the toy.

 _Strange... but it doesn't matter right now. Gotta hurry..._

Going back for the tool, she unearths it from the ground and examines it. _If I attach the toy hands to this and make it longer..._

Her blue eyes darken, and she's already reaching into her purse, fingers wrapping around her needle and thread.

 _...First, I'll sew them together._

Her head goes a little fuzzy as she works. The hands seem to leak some kind of muddy red liquid as she punctures them with the needle, and she's careful not to cover her own hands in it.

 _...and combine them..._

Faintly somewhere, there's inhuman cries of pain and sorrow, but she's far too focused on her work on the toys. They wiggle and squirm, but she quickly puts an end to that. They aren't allowed to move while she's in need of them.

 _Then, if I attach it onto the tip of that broken pickaxe..._

With effort, she stabs the end of the pickaxe through the bottom of her toy-hand contraption. There's a muffled sound, and then nothing.

Admiring her new tool, she raises it in her hand and gazes toward the water temperature room.

 _Now I should be able to reach the back of that refrigerator._

Hurrying back, she faces the fridge with the weapon and points it inside. Adjusting it, she tries to get it to reach the hole, but it moves in her hand somehow despite her best efforts.

 _This thing's so odd. It's not broken and it's still wiggling a little..._

Finally, she gets the right angle, and the pointed finger at the tip presses into the button for her. The sound of the elevator coming to life alerts her to her victory.

 _...Good. That was the right switch. I gotta hurry to the elevator._

Ray withdraws the pickaxe, and notices that the toy hand's no longer fidgeting.

 _It's stopped moving..._

" _I saw that, Rachel!_ "

Her head juts upward. The voice came from before her, and out of nowhere, the shadow of Eddie's being forms in front of her. The figure points at her, giggling.

" _How terrible! Just_ _terrible_ _! Hey, does hearing a sad scream not make you feel anything, Rachel? Don't you want to comfort whoever screamed? Ever consider what makes that person happy?_ "

It lowers its hand, his voice growing darker.

" _...You only think about yourself, Rachel. And blatantly ignore anyone else's happiness. That's why everyone around you... even_ _Zack_ _, will no doubt suffer and meet their end._ "

In a flash of pink haze, she blinks and the figure disappears from her sight. She warily glances from side to side, trying to see where it had come from or gone, but there are no answers.

 _Not again_...

Their words whirl around her head, eating away at her from the inside out. Her entire body abruptly feels weak at the thought. It's incoherent, and she can't understand it at all. Reaching up, she runs her fingers through her hair, holding her head and trying to understand.

 _How awful... a sad scream... I feel nothing... Suffer and meet their end... even Zack?_

 _But... I..._

It wants to encompass her, but she pushes the feelings of confusion away. As much as she wants to know why these figures are appearing, she can't focus on them right now.

 _No... I mustn't think about this. The next floor, B5, has the medicine. I gotta hurry and go back there._

 _I have to hurry... For Zack...!_

 **.x.X.x.**

Standing before Gray, Ray raises her chin, trying to portray composure.

"I pressed the switch."

He nods his head. "It appears so."

The priest's stern face again seems disappointed. Seeing him like this combined with how the figures continue to torment her only sets her on edge.

"Rachel Gardner..." he says slowly, in a questioning tone. "How did you manage to press the switch?"

This time she's even more apprehensive about her answer, yet she knows she has no choice but to answer. It's not as if she's done anything wrong, right? But... Eddie's silhouette treated what she'd done as a problem.

"...I attached a toy hand to a pickaxe and pressed it with that," she admits to him. Gray frowns.

"Interesting... Did they wail in agony?"

She swallows before answering.

"...No."

His brows knit together, and his pupil-less eyes seem to pierce through her.

"How can you be so sure?"

 _How...?_

 _I... I never... But..._

"I mean..." Ray clears her throat, meeting his gaze uncertainly. "...It was just a toy hand, after all."

His jaw clenches. "...I see. They... must have appeared to you as such. So be it. If that is what you saw, then it must be true."

His body acts as a barricade between her and the elevator, and she doesn't appreciate the expression on his face as he speaks.

"Please let me go down to the next floor..." she utters quietly, thinking of Zack once more. He seems to chew on his thoughts, before stepping aside.

"Very well."

The two board the elevator, and Ray's overcome with another strange bout of dizziness. The sweet scent from the preacher overwhelms her, and before she knows it, they've made it to the next floor without her noticing.

"We have arrived at B5," Gray comments, stepping out of the elevator. She pursues him slowly, blinking at the waving walls and psychedelic aura of the place. At this rate, she's starting to wonder if this is how it always was, and she imagined it to be normal when she passed through the first time. Her head is also starting to hurt a little again.

"You wished to come here, did you not?" he inquires.

"..Yeah," she whispers, her chest swelling.

 _Zack... I'm here. I'll find it for you, I promise._

"Then make haste and find your medicine," Gray waves her off. "Danny is a fastidious man, but he is nevertheless scrupulous, dedicated, and unbiased in his work. Surely he has the medicine you seek. Although... It seems Danny hast been a trifle obsessive as of late..."

He sighs quietly, but then stands before the elevator to wait for her. Ray takes a few steps forward, before stopping and facing him again.

"...Umm," she breathes, and he raises a brow at her.

"What is it?"

"There's... something I need to get on B6 as well," the girl informs him. He doesn't look entirely surprised, but curious.

"Oh? Very well," he allows easily, and she blinks at him.

"...Sure it's okay?" she presses him, and he smiles.

"Yes." He walks past her then, heading down the hall on his own. "Return to the elevator once you have found the medicine."

"...Okay," she agrees, and he turns the corner, leaving her behind.

Thankful he's being lenient, she readies herself to face Danny's floor again. Here she is, finally able to get her hands on the medicine for the boy dying on B2. She'll do anything to take it up to him.

 _...Time to find that medicine. I'm positive there should be some here. Although I was in a complete daze and didn't take a good look around when I was here before._

Ray takes another few steps forward in thought, but then stops once more. Her eyes flit around, taking in the walls and the air. So... she's not imagining it, but...

 _I passed through this floor before, but... something seems a bit out of place. It's been bothering me the whole time. but I just can't put my finger on it._

She glances over the elevator. This specific part of the floor seems normal, for some reason.

 _Hmm... the elevator is exactly as it was... Even Zack's vomit is still there._

A heavy sloshing noise, and she's caught staring in horror as that very same nasty, liquid pile of vomit bubbles up from the floor, becoming an angry blob.

 _...Eh-?_

It approaches her, sliding fast across the floor, and her eyes widen, her legs already stepping back in reflex.

 _...Something's really_ _not_ _right here. I'm out of here—!_

Taking off running, Ray's footsteps thunder down the hall. The shattered glass still litters the floor, and the edges of the wall are still sharp.

The nasty gray blob races after her, and she turns her head to look at it for just a moment, before—

 _Crash!_

Her world fades out for a moment as she trips and falls because of something stabbing at her foot. Sharp pains race out along her arms as she hits the ground, and for a moment, she lies there in disorientation.

Then her eyes slowly open, and she winces in pain, beginning to struggle her way onto her hands and knees.

"...Ow..." Her own groan echoes down the hall, and she flinches as the stinging pain in her foot continues.

As she tries to regain her bearings, she realizes something seems different. Her head doesn't feel as messy and blurred around the edges, and the floor and walls seem closer to normal too.

 _Huh...? What was that just now?_

Ray stands up, glancing down at her shoe. A piece of glass is sticking out of it, jammed into her sole, and she raises her leg to pull it out. The jagged tip is just barely dipped in blood as she withdraws it, and she winces.

 _I sort of cut my foot on the glass... It happened when I panicked and ran away, I guess. It sure smarts, but the cut is small, and I'm not losing any blood really. Phew..._

 _In fact, the whole thing's left me feeling strangely refreshed. What in the world was all that about...?_

The reality slams home then, reminding her of why she came here in the first place. The walls no longer move and she doesn't feel that pink haze tickling at her subconsciousness anymore— so she straightens to her full height and glances around.

 _Never mind about that; I_ _gotta_ _get that medicine!_ _Zack's depending on me..._

 _I'll try checking out the operating room. It seems like a place where I could find some._

Hurrying down the hall and throwing open the door to the operating room, Ray rushes in with the intent to scour every nook and cranny for the medicine she needs.

She takes a single step inside before realizing something is very wrong. One glance down reveals the reason: there's no body lying in a heap at the foot of the operating table. Only a dried bloodstain is left, but Danny's body is gone.

 _...The doctor's missing?_ She takes a cautious step closer. _Oh no... Where is he?_

 _I'm pretty certain there wasn't a body on B3 or B4 either... but..._

She follows the trail of blood, realizing it leads to the door and then abruptly stops.

 _...The only trace of him being dragged is here. Something's... off._

She has a thousand questions as to where the bodies of Cathy, Eddie, and Danny all went, but there's nothing clear through the confusion. Their disappearances are left unanswered, and it bothers her. But there's nothing she can do about it.

 _...I'll forget that for now. My first priority is finding some medicine. The room in the back should have a shelf with specimens and drugs._

Pushing thoughts of Doctor Danny and the others out of her mind, she rushes into the back. The sights of the rows upon rows of colored eyes greet her, but she moves past them, to where she'd seen all the medication and such back when she was first brought in.

However, when she sees the shelves, ehr heart drops. The once-full cabinets are now completely empty. It's as if someone came through and swiped them all, leaving only the eye specimens behind.

 _The drugs are gone...!_

Her panic and despair instantly rears its ugly head, but she swallows hard. There's no way this can be it. They can't all be gone.

 _I'll scour all the drug shelves on this floor if I have to...!_

With thoughts of Zack pushing her forward, she leaves the operating room, runs down the hall, and enters the first room on her left— the one where a single bed had been surrounded by a rail and a ceiling high fence.

The bed inside has been crushed in the middle and tossed aside. The sparse equipment has been shattered and broken, and the security camera that had once watched her is in pieces on the ground.

 _The inside's been ransacked... There's nothing here._

 _I'll try the next room...!_

That plan turns out to be no better. no sooner has she stepped inside the room, than she realizes it's a futile effort. This room is in even worse shape than the last. What once was orderly rows of patient beds and tables has now been utterly destroyed. Everything is thrown around the room and crushed, shattered, torn in half. It's practically impossible to take a step forward into it the way it is now, and she can already tell there's nothing of value left behind.

 _Still nothing...? Who did all of this? And why? Did they take the medicine with them...?_

 _...There's still places I haven't checked. I have to search everywhere._

There's one last room in the back that she remembers— the one that Danny had walked out from the first time she saw him here. There had been a locked case there, she recalls, filled with medicines.

With her heart sinking into the floor at this point, she holds onto the hope that there's something, _anything_ there for her to use on Zack, and she rushes through the halls. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears, interrupted by her own footsteps.

Throwing open the door of the room and making a beeline for the case, it takes a single glance for her wishes to be completely crushed.

The case has been left unlocked and standing open. Every bottle, vial, or container of medicine has been taken, with nothing remaining at all in the shelves. Ray stands there, her eyes glued to the empty cabinet, finding it harder and harder to breathe with each passing second.

 _...It's gone. All gone._

 _The medicine's gone._

Just like that, the world around her crashes and tumbles inside her mind, like a heavy weight dropping square over her shoulders, Her fingers grip into her jacket, tight enough her knuckles are white. She can't take her sight off the empty case. She can't believe what her eyes are telling her.

 _...Did someone make off with it?_

Could someone have taken all of that medicine? Why? Who would do it? Her head is filled with accusations and anger, frustration, but most of all a grave amount of despair.

All she had wanted was to find medicine to treat Zack. Her chance to save him, to keep him safe... she's failed. She failed him.

It's all gone, and she can't save him.

 _I... gotta get back,_ she thinks, her shoulders drooping. _And see Zack..._

Another thought comes to mind, and she purses her lips together tightly. _But I also gotta go to B6. Zack asked me to..._

 _"B6's where I first found you... I want you to bring me something from there."_

His last request of her rings loud in her ears, and she focuses herself on that. If she can't bring him medicine right now, the least she can do is complete his task and bring him something from there.

Something from the floor... where they first met.

 _I gotta hurry...!_

Ray leaves the hopeless room, meeting back up with Gray by the elevator down. His expression knits together with concern as she comes to him.

"...What is the matter? You look ghastly," he remarks with a frown.

 _I look ghastly...?_ Before she'd know it, her own face has taken on such grave desperation and depression that she's sure if Zack could see it, he'd poke at her for it.

 _Zack..._

"...Hurry and take me to B6," she tells him quickly.

He raises a brow questioningly. "And so I shall, but did you find any medicine?"

The word is sour across her lips. "...No."

"Nothing...?"

Her eyes meet his, almost accusing, and her words are bitter. "You told me there would be medicine here on B5. But that turned out to be false."

His small mouth presses together, seeming bothered by her statement. "Hmm. Well..."

He watches how she stares at him, and shakes his head.

"...Perhaps you doubt my words, but do not look upon me with accusing eyes. I too am unaware as to why the medicine is missing."

Ray opens her mouth, as if to say something in counter, but it dies off in her throat, until she's left frowning to herself, her features left a mask of fearful worry.

"Yet, I can guess..." Gray pipes up again, growing sterner. "...That _you_ are to blame... Rachel Gardner."

Her eyes widen, but she's quick to protest. "It has nothing to do with me..."

"Has it never crossed your mind that _you_ have played a part in all these unfortunate events?" he presses her, crossing his arms stiffly.

 _Me?_

 _But, I... It wasn't. It wasn't me! I didn't do anything!_

"...I told you it has nothing to do with me!" she forcefully says through her teeth, adamant.

His features tell her everything— that he doesn't believe her. Her fists clench at her sides, feeling lost.

 _Zack..._

She doesn't have time for this. She's already lost so much...

"...Nevermind that, hurry and take me to B6." she demands.

The older priest is quiet, before letting out a long exhale.

"...Very well. Let us be on our way then."

He enters the elevator, and Ray swallows hard. Everything is all wrong, but there's so little she can do. Being this helpless...

Not to mention, Gray's words haunt her, attacking her mind and filling her with doubt. He blames her for the medicine being missing.

It's not her fault. It can't be. But...

...Somewhere, in the back of her mind, as she joins him on the elevator headed down, it hurts— and a little forgotten voice whispers to her that maybe, just maybe...

...She's just as much to blame as he says.

 **.x.X.x.**

Zack has never been in this much fuckin' pain before, and he's really starting to get tired of it.

His gut burns like mad, and every time he even moves a goddamn inch, shooting pains wrack his entire body. At this rate, he's about as worthless as a sack of rotten potatoes. Not to mention he keeps blacking out. Fuck, he hadn't thought he was this weak before. He must be losing his touch or something.

He doesn't know how much time's gone by since he's been sitting here. His back is aching too from leaning against the wall for so long, but he doesn't want to move too much, both because it fucking hurts and because he's waiting for Ray to get back.

Ray... where the hell is she?

His memories are fuzzy. He still can't help but laugh about how easy it was to cleave down Cathy, but the hole in his stomach likes to remind him that he made a piss-poor decision. But, if he hadn't... he probably would've sliced Ray's head off in one go, and played right into the bitch's hands.

That was something he didn't want. That was a decision that _he_ wouldn't have made. When he kills Ray, he wants to remember it, and he wants to be _himself_ doing it.

When she dies... he wants to be standing by her side with all his wits, not like some crazed asswipe. She didn't deserve to get massacred like everyone else.

...Not that he has any idea why it even matters. God, his stomach _really_ fucking hurts.

He's not sure what to make of the girl's decision to go down the floors again for his sake. In fact, well, he thinks it was the stupidest, craziest thing she'd ever chosen to do. But, at the same time, it made him feel strange somehow, knowing the risk she was taking going back for him.

Even going down to B6, for that one stupid little object that he wants, like an obedient puppy. She's really something, that Ray.

...He wishes she was back already. Not knowing if she's even alive right now is giving him a headache, and his head's not even well enough as it is. It's pretty uncomfortable sitting in your own blood like this.

So he quietly waits, listening for her footsteps and her light voice to speak to him. Hell, he'd probably pay money to see her smile again right about now. It'd make him feel just a tiny bit less shitty.

The elevator to his left makes him a little more awake, and he holds his breath. His vision is crap and he can't hardly focus well, but he knows it's not Ray as it walks by him, then stops.

"...Oh, so you're alive."

That voice is familiar, but not in a good way. No... just the snooty, self-satisfied tone of it lets him know who it is, and he can't help but feel the repressed urge to cut into them again with his scythe. If only he could pick up his damn weapon without it feeling like a two-ton weight.

"But you're so weak..." they continue, and he can hear the smile in their voice.

"Shall _I_ finish you off— _Zack_?"

Zack's eyes pop open then. Though blurry, he grows conscious enough to see the person standing before him in full glory.

The sickeningly white lab coat splattered in blood, the bulging spots all over it and under his shirt, and the ruffled dirt-brown hair and skewed glasses— trademarks of Danny. His green-red eye flickers about weirdly as the man grins down at him, standing far enough away for self safety but pleased all the same.

"Wakey wakey," Danny prods him.

 _...Fuck!_

Zack doesn't waste time. Though his body protests, he jumps up to his feet, gripping his scythe in both hands. It feels off balance in his grasp, but he raises it menacingly, making the doctor draw back. His bloodied mouth curls into an even wide grin.

"You never change, do you, Zack?" he asks, raising his hands and shaking his head. "It amazes me that you can move so nimbly in that shape. But _look_ at you— you're almost out of breath."

 _Fuck_ _you!_

He doesn't want to let on how weak he actually feels, trying to forcefully regulate his breathing and ready to strike at the man if he makes a move.

"...What the hell are _you_ doin' here?!" Zack growls out, his voice raspy and rough.

Danny tilts his head, his beady eyes trained on him. "Surprised? I knew all along that you were attempting to go after Rachel and leave this floor. So I hid a bit of a safety precaution under my clothes just in case."

His expression darkens considerably.

"I had no idea... _no_ idea that you'd actually show up, though."

Zack chuckles under his breath, feeling triumphant about how he'd easily sabotaged Danny's little plan. He grips the scythe tighter.

"Alright, I'll slash you good... one more time," he promises, letting a twisted smile settle over his lips.

He rushes forward, but Danny easily sidesteps the oncoming blade attack. Zack stumbles over his feet, while the doctor laughs from nearby, watching how the boy tries to turn and recover.

"You _mustn't_ push yourself, Zack. _Look_ at you; such a slowpoke!" he teases him, and the hooded boy grows agitated.

"Huh?!"

Danny brushes off the comment easily. "Besides all that, just give it a rest. Even _I_ didn't make it out unscathed, okay? My body armor and blood transfusion packs got hit hard, resulting in this mess." he gestures down to his crimson-soaked coat, and Zack snickers.

"...You seem pretty peppy considerin', if you ask me," he remarks snidely.

The doctor winks at him, enjoying himself. "That's what separates you and I: proper preparation in advance and cleanup afterwards. Though..."

Something in his expression changes.

"...I'm just as frantic as you are. I thought about killing you in your sleep, but you woke up— there goes that idea. Tell me, why are you accompanying Rachel? And where is she, anyways?"

Zack's entire body tenses up at her name. Sure, the creepy bastard can come after him all he wants, he'll slice him up good. But... if he goes for Ray...

 _As if I'd fuckin' tell you that. I'll rip off your limbs before I let you anywhere near her._

"...Are you seriously askin' me that?" Zack says coldly, before stomping his foot down, raising his scythe threateningly. "As if I'd _ever_ tell you where she is, you fuck! What would you do if I said I killed her? _Huuuh_?"

His rage empties out in his words, echoing his thoughts. Danny's eyes widen, and then grow icy. He glowers at Zack, gritting his teeth.

"...You _trash,_ " he spits out, slamming his fist against the wall beside him, his voice rising into a furious shout.

" _Who_ do you think's been admiring her peepers?! Are you trying to say you _killed_ her?! _Don't fuck around with me_! Those peepers are _unique_! I've been searching my _whole_ life for peepers like those! Alive, yet dead, and so tranquil and beautiful! You think I'm gonna let someone like _you_ have her peepers?! They are all _mine—_ _mine!_ I've been admiring them for so long..."

Chest heaving, the doctor lowers his fist. His mismatched eyes meet Zack's crazily, but the hooded boy just raises a brow at him.

 _Ray's eyes... I'll fucking kill you before you get your hands on them._

"Who gives a flyin' fuck?" Zack says flippantly. "I couldn't care less about her eyes. But she wants _me_ to kill her. And _I'll_ be the one to do it. So..."

He raises the scythe, his hands vise-tight around the handle.

"...Whatever happens to Ray isn't yours to decide!" he yells angrily.

Danny takes a cautious step backwards from the boy, but a small smile trembles over his lips. He chuckles under his breath.

"...Fine. Have it your way, then. I _know_ she's alive— you being here on this floor is proof of that."

Something suddenly crosses his face, and he raises a hand, tapping his chin.

"Ah, yes... Allow me to make a proposal, my battered friend."

Zack's eyes narrow. "Huh...?"

"To tell the truth, I have lots of medicine on my person," the doctor admits, patting a bumpy spot under his coat. "Want me to use it... to save you?"

The boy's almost not sure he heard him correctly, staring holes into the doctor— but a second later, the man shows his true colors. His expression turns wild and psychotic, just as crazy as the bastard himself.

"That is... if you scoop out Rachel's peepers and give them to me!" he declares.

A heartbeat of silence passes. Zack's left standing there processing the guy's request for a moment, before he lets out an annoyed exhale.

 _This fuckin' asshat just doesn't give up. He doesn't get that I'd never do what he asks._

 _Ray..._

"I just told you that I've got no interest in Ray's eyes," Zack replies, letting a malicious smirk cross his face. "—Count me _out._ "

Danny's gleeful smile vanishes and grows stony, while the boy continues. His voice takes on a softer tone.

Heh... He couldn't ever promise to take out her eyes or destroy her like that. It's not his style. And...

He glances away, thinking of the few times she'd offered him that lonely, emotionless smile. It sucked, true, but there was something about it that was distinctly Ray.

"...Without her eyes, her laugh and smile would be empty," Zack tells him firmly, unflinchingly.

There's something about his own words that bothers him, something he himself doesn't want to acknowledge, and it pisses him off. Zack points the scythe at Danny, propelling his irritation at him.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone about her stupid eyes! I'm not givin' you _anything_ , you bastard!"

Even if the creepy doctor decides to give him medicine to save his life, he'd never take it over Ray. He's not that in need of it, and he'd rather fight infection than accept charity from such a lowlife coward.

Danny studies his expression, something dawning in his eyes, before he chuckles to himself.

"...Oh my. What a fool. I'll take my leave then."

Zack pauses. "...Huh?"

"I'll lose to a monster like you in my current state," Danny responds, shrugging his shoulders. "You can't even walk properly by yourself, right? In that case, I should hoof it outta here while I can. Besides..."

His expression hardens, but the nasty smile stays in place.

"...I gotta make preparations to protect her peepers."

He spins around, and walks away without another word. Zack's wounded body cries out in protest, but he stares off after the creep with wide eyes.

 _Wait— I can't let that sick freak get away! If he goes after Ray-!_

Despite his own pain, he pushes his feet forward, running after him.

"Hey! Shit! ... _Waaaaait!_ "

* * *

A/n: Lightly edited.

Hey everyone. Hope you're enjoying the chunky chapters! ^^ Next, we're covering a lot of crazy stuff... and by crazy, I mean Gray's got some tricks up his sleeve no one's seen coming. And as for Zack, well... He's still a mystery.

Anyways, I won't keep you long. I'm still battling my wifi problem, as well as dreaming up new AU's for AOD, haha. Hopefully once this is over, I'll throw some oneshots and stuff up for the fandom— some bonafide original content. Gosh, I honestly hope I'm doing this novelization some justice.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think. ^^

~Disclaimer~ I own only a rapid heartbeat and a sense of dread every other day, but AOD isn't mine.


	13. My God's Promise

"We have arrived on B6."

Bleak gray walls greet Ray's vision, as she and the priest step off the elevator.

 _It feels like forever since I was last here on B6. The last time... I was being chased by Zack. He came after me to kill me._

 _...I should have let him._

"Zack's floor corresponds to his mystique; 'tis uncomplicated in design," Gray tells her, standing off to the side with his arms tightly crossed. "Now make haste."

She doesn't need to be told twice. Without even glancing at the man, she runs down the hall, while memories of the past swirl around in her head.

 _This floor is where we... Zack and I, met._

 _...It's almost funny how things are between us now._

Entering the main floor, she recognizes the hall. Images of Zack running after her, scythe swinging, and those bi-colored eyes glinting in bloodlust re-emerge from her memories. The echo of his laughter still lingers. Instead of filling her with a sense of fear and paranoia, it feels almost... nostalgic.

Her brows knit together. _Gotta get it and hurry back..._

Where should she even begin? Yes, the floor is fairly easy to figure out... but what does Zack want from the floor? She never asked him specifically, and he offered nothing to give her a hint. Nor where in the floor she'd be able to find it.

A broken picture of the mangled bird she'd tried to save flashes through her mind— and the doorway behind it, which he'd burst through. That loud, explosion of a moment still feels like moments ago, and she finds her feet leading her back to that place.

Before even she knows it, Ray's standing at the once-boarded up entryway of the building Zack had come through. The long-dried puddle of blood from the bird still remains, along with the shattered wood remnants from his noisy exit. Standing here, it feels like he could pop out of the doorway any moment to chase her down the aisle again.

 _Zack..._

The inside of the building is dimly lit and obscured. and she peeks into it cautiously. She's not sure if her hunch is right, but it's worth a shot all the same.

 _Inside here...?_

Her curiosity carries her into the narrow hall. It's dusty and dirty, and her boots crunch along the unclean floor— but she continues anyway, wanting to see what lies ahead.

The stone floor gives way to a checkered black and white tile, and Ray stops. For a moment she drinks in the surroundings, her eyes slowly scanning over it all.

 _This room..._

It's excessively messy, certainly, but it feels lived in. Almost homey, even. Trash is strewn along the floor, as well as used bandages. A single short table sits in the center of the room, and to the far end is a couch and crate. A dirty steel sink is off in the left corner, covered in blood.

 _This place is a pigsty, but it feels like somebody was here..._

 _Could this be where Zack was staying...?_

Ray swallow. Though she's in a rush, something about all of this piques her interest. This place is where Zack lived before she came along, and it all screams of his presence. It's like she's walked into his own personal bubble, exposed for her to see with her own eyes.

 _I know I'm in a hurry, but... I'm a bit curious about all of this._

Her footsteps are quiet as she walks forward, eying the various objects around her. A magazine at her feet is covered in black scribbles, as if he'd tried to write on it but failed— but graffiti around it was rather well made.

 _Maybe Zack wrote this... Oh, that's right. Zack can't read._

Approaching the table, she raises a brow at the colorful, stale cereal scattered on the floor. A chipped container holds a soggy pile of puffy cereal, liquified by a brown carbonated drink. She cringes at the thought.

 _I guess the soda pop didn't compliment the cereal well, huh...?_ She realizes the same soda cans are piled all over, and she blinks.

 _Does he like this soda or something? It seems so... Zack._

There's a single, broken glass on the table. It's jagged on one side, left abandoned with the remnant of something still in it, and she can picture him still trying to drink out of it like this. He _is_ the type to do something so risky.

 _How unsafe... There are signs of someone drinking from it. Drinking from a broken cup..._

Stepping around it, she nearly trips over an unraveled, discarded strand of dirty gauze. Gazing at it, she raises her eyes to the nasty sink. It's covered in reddish-brown splatter, and a once-white towel hangs above it, now discolored forever.

 _Don't tell me he's been using this the whole time..._

Ray moves toward the beaten up couch in the back. A dark green, thin blanket is splayed over it, and a bag of chips with soggy contents lies in front of it.

 _This place must have been where Zack slept..._

Something glinting in the light from nearby draws her attention, and she notes the crate from before. Something sits atop it, and she widens her eyes.

 _Is this what Zack was talking about...?_

A short knife sits atop it. The blade is dirty and it doesn't look like it's been used in awhile, but there's something about it that feels special somehow, like it was important to Zack.

 _It's awfully dirty, not to mention a little rusty. Seems like it wasn't maintained very well... But..._

Ray picks up the weapon, glancing over it. _That's odd... The blade looks razor sharp..._

 _I'll bring it along just in case._ She might be wrong, but it doesn't hurt to give it to him and find out. Chances of coming back to this floor are nonexistent, so it's better to take whatever he might need while she can.

Placing it aside, something else on the couch makes her return to it. The cushions are dilapidated, having seen plenty of use and being quite an old piece of furniture. The blanket Zack must've used is soiled with blood and whatever else.

But the object that captures her interest is the single, entirely rolled up bandage that sits half-hidden under the blanket. She picks it up quickly, realizing it's been unused.

 _A bandage! Good. But there's no burn medicine..._

Still, at least with the bandage, she can try and use the clean new gauze to prevent as much infection. It's definitely a handy thing to have come across, and she slips it into her purse. With one final sweep over the room, she shakes her head.

 _I think there's nothing left... Gotta hurry and get back._

Crossing the room, she halts at the door and risks a single glance back. The empty, yet lived-in space emanates Zack's presence, and it even has the faintest scent of him. Just being inside of it feels personal, as if she doesn't belong in his world.

 _Zack... so he spent his time here like this. I had no idea._

 _Come to think of it, I... I don't know_ _anything_ _about Zack._

The boy she's entrusted her life and death to, and made such a strong vow with... it hits her just how little she knows of him. She's seen his smile and his anger, the way he fiercely feels loyal to himself and brutally honest. But when she really takes a look at how much she knows, it's practically nothing. He might as well be a stranger, despite how she feels so connected to him.

Her features contort slightly, and she frowns to herself. Her fingers clutch into the front of her jacket tightly.

 _...Time to head back... and see Zack._

 **.x.X.x.**

Returning to Gray, he's waiting patiently for her by the elevator.

"Did you finish your errand on B6?" he calmly asks, and she nods.

"Yeah, so I want to hurry and get back up to B2," she replies.

"Very well," he says, re-entering the elevator. "Let us return then."

She joins him, and they begin the upward climb once again. The whole time they head back, her mind is consumed with thoughts of Zack. Thoughts of who he is as a person, of his past, of the scars that litter his body... and wondering if he'll still be alive when she gets back.

After what seems like a lifetime, they reach B2 once more. She practically rushes out of the elevator, armed with the bandage, his name upon her lips. However, it dies when she sees the empty space.

His body. Zack himself, just... gone. All that's left is blood smeared along the places he'd once been. Her heartbeat grinds to a jilted rhythm.

"...Oh no," she breathes, fearing the absolute worst.

"...What is the matter?" Gray speaks, coming up beside her.

"He's gone," she barely manages, staring at the blood. "Zack's gone..."

She whirls on him, and desperately meets the gaze of the priest. He simply sighs at her, shaking his head.

"I am not able to produce him even if you continue to stare at me like that," he reprimands her.

"Are you being truthful?" she demands, wary.

"Indeed I am."

Something dark overcomes the preacher's face, setting her inner alarms off, and she watches how his expression changes.

"Just as I suspected," he says firmly, as if stating something of deep importance. "The one behind this chain of misfortune— t'was none other than _thee_ , Rachel Gardner."

There's that accusatory tone again. HIs pupil-less eyes seem to pierce right through her, fiery and bone white, and she pipes up in protest.

"What is it with you? I _told_ you it has nothing to do with me!" she reiterates, but he seems unbothered.

"Was Danny on B5?" he questions her. "He is the only one whose whereabouts are unknown to me."

She reels back, unable to form her answer, and he continues on, his words edged.

" _Why_ would such an earnest and sensible man start acting so bizarre? It is _you_ who is behind this, is it not?"

Taking a step back, then turning away from him, she grips at her purse strap stressfully. Everything he says tears at her, though she doesn't understand why Why? Why is he blaming her? What has she done?

"It's not my fault," she says in a far more composed voice than she feels. Breathing in sharply, she shakes her head.

"Never mind that—I gotta find Zack."

"Wait," he commands her from behind, and she faces him once more. He's grave, far too serious.

"I have been watching thee. I have grown curious as to what sort of meddling hellion you are. If baneful, then justice must be swift." He glowers at her. "Though, the sight of you searching for medicine for Zack did offer a glimmer of hope..."

Her voice is caught in her throat. She can see it: stony judgment in his eyes, in his every movement.

"Alas..." he finally says. "It seems I was mistaken. Your actions abound with selfishness and ruthlessness. And the answer you gave me at the outset... As to why you are trying to keep Zack alive... Because you wish for him to take your life..."

He tsks under his breath.

"Oh, Rachel Gardner... All of your actions are without a doubt selfish, for you only love yourself."

Those words cut through her like a knife, jammed deep into her ribcage. She shouldn't care about what he says, but they strike home so deep that she gasps. Her body tenses up, coiling like a steel wire.

"...No," she barely whispers. "Sure, I want Zack to kill me, but it's not just about that."

It hasn't been solely for that reason in quite some time. Even she's not sure of when that changed, but... She doesn't travel with Zack solely to die at his hand.

It's... it's all because...

"There's more to it," she insists, swallowing hard. "Zack swore an oath to God that he would take my life."

As if to refute her claim, the organ from before seems to begin playing through the walls. The melody hurts her ears, and she watches a slow, methodical smile form on Gray's face.

"Rachel Gardner..."

He steps toward her. Ray holds her ground, but he looms over her, far taller than she is. His shadow casts over her figure, and she can only stare up at him.

"You say Zack swore an oath to God," he repeats, yet he wears an amused smile. "However... Even if he didst make that oath, how do you know if God will choose to allow it? If there were others with the same oath, do you not think that it is God's will to determine which shall come to pass? Should the will of God differ from your own... what then will you do?"

The question is more like a statement firm and unflinching, and she opens her mouth to respond, to counter it with something. The coldness eats away at her, chipping at her resolve.

 _'What then will you do?'_

If God were to refuse their oath... what would she do?

"Forgive me," Gray says, shaking his head. "Twas a rather heartless question."

He turns from her, moving around the girl's still body.

"Now I must make preparations before I sentence you."

"—Huh?" she says, not sure she heard him right. She's still trying to register his words, and she turns to look at him in confusion.

As she does, a blast of something is sprayed directly into her face. She has no time to react or even breathe for that matter. The cloying, sweet fishy smell envelopes her every sense, her vision blurring pink. Ray falls to her knees, trying to blink away the haziness, but her thoughts are already beginning to jumble together.

"That sweet scent," she coughs out, her throat burning. "Could it be...?"

Gray stares at her as the world darkens around them, and then he fades out too, joining the shadows in the recesses of her mind. As she falls forward, she can hear his voice echoing amongst the discordant melody of the pipe organ.

"Well then, Rachel Gardner... Let the deliberation proceed!"

 **.x.X.x.**

When she comes too, her head pounds with pain.

Having fallen to the ground in an unceremonious heap, she blinks her groggy eyes open a few times. The floor underneath her is tinged magenta, and she pushes herself to her hands and knees, then to her feet, wobbly.

The world is moving again, the walls strange and distorted, and Gray is nowhere to be found. She rubs her eyes, trying to will the blurriness and confusion away, but she can't shake it.

 _What just happened...? What was I doing just now?_

The priest's words replay in her mind, making her clench her jaw.

 _...The will of God..._

Shaking the terrible thoughts from her mind for now, her main priority coming back to her for the time being. Zack's disappearance isn't good, and she has to find him before something awful happens... or already has.

 _Never mind about me. I gotta hurry and find Zack..._

Something rushes past her eyes, and she stares toward the end of the room. Where the elevator is, a black cloud seems to erupt from the wall itself, covering it and beginning to approach.

 _What...?_

 _No... The darkness isn't approaching. Something_ _else_ _is._

Out of the shadows, a form slithers along the tile toward her, moving threateningly and bobbing its head up and down. A long, thin tongue flicks out at her, and she hears a low, deep hiss.

 _A giant snake...?_

 _I-I gotta get away!_

Ray spins around, feet pounding the tile in an effort to get as far from the snake as she can. It races after her, and she can hear the long, scaled body slithering behind her.

The hall seems to go on forever, becoming long and strange, the walls fading until it's just an endless path through oblivion. With nowhere else to go, she hurries down it, praying that she can outrun the snake.

Something materializes in the distance. As she comes up on it, she recognizes the confessional— and the person sitting in the center of it all.

"— _Zack!_ " she screams.

Her relief at seeing him there is short-lived, encompassed by the fear of the giant snake behind her. Ray rushes to his resting figure, and grabs at his shoulders, shaking him violently in an effort to wake him.

"Zack! Wake up!" she cries out, and his eyes slowly open, blearily looking at her with confusion.

"Huh...?"

Ray throws a glance back, realizing the snake is drawing nearer.

 _It's going to kill us both!_

"There's a giant snake!" she tells him in a rush. " _Run!_ "

Now more awake, his brows knit together, annoyance flitting over his face.

"What're you talkin' about?" he demands.

 _Can't he see it? Doesn't he realize we're going to get attacked?_

"Look!" she says, pointing behind her frantically. "It's right _there_!"

Suddenly Zack grabs her arm, forcing her to look at him, his eyes serious.

" _Listen_ to me," he tries to say, but she shakes her head fast.

"Hurry, we'll take the door behind us!" she insists, looking back at the snake. It's so close, it could shoot out and bite them right this minute!

"I'm, uh... talkin' to you!" he tries again, but she's not listening. She doesn't understand why he's not moving, or why he's ignoring her pleas. Does he _want_ to die here?

" _Step_ on it!" she urges him, her eyes wild as they glue onto the snake. "Hurry _Zaaaaaaaaack_!"

She doesn't realize he's gotten up until he yells out in frustration.

" _Aaah!_ Shut _up!_ "

A sharp blow to her head from behind makes her lose all train of thought. Everything goes black for a moment, and she hits her knees, dizzy and confused.

When the world comes back into focus, she finds herself blinking at the now normal surroundings. What once was a barren, void-like wasteland is once again the room with the confessional. The walls no longer move, the floor underneath her feet is the simple red carpet, and the snake has vanished.

"...Oops...?" she murmurs, wide-eyed and bewildered.

"Don't gimme 'oops'!" Zack protests angrily behind her, crossing his arms. "What the hell are you talkin' about, anyway?!"

 _What am I...?_

 _But... it was right there. I know it. I_ _saw_ _it._

"But..." she says, getting to her feet and taking a few hesitant steps forward, as if the snake will appear from anywhere nearby. "...a giant snake—"

"You must be imaginin' things," Zack cuts her off, coming up behind her slowly. "Are you fucked in the head? Don't make me pound yer head again."

 _So... I was 'imagining' things...?_

 _Is all of what I saw just an illusion, then?_

"Just when I think you're back, you don't make any sense, and you're all freaked out," Zack continues, his voice growing quieter. "I _knew_ you couldn't handle yourself all alone out there..."

"I..." The words slip out of her mouth. "I'm sorry..."

Something toppling over behind her draws her mind back into focus. She whirls to see Zack sitting on the ground, holding a hand to his stomach. Even through his bandaged expression, she can see the pain etched over it.

Hurrying to his side, her own face filled with worry, she asks, "Are you alright, Zack? ...Why did you move here?"

He groans under his breath, glancing up at her.

"I had an... unwanted visitor."

Immediately, she feels an ice-cold realization drip down her spine. There could only be one person who he could've met. The person who, most likely, stole that medicine. The only one who could still be alive.

"...Dr Danny?" she asks, and he nods his head in confirmation.

"Yep, the one and only." He blinks. "...How'd you know?"

"...His body was missing," she tells him with a frown.

He rolls his eyes, blowing a gust of air through his mouth. "That makes sense. Cocky bastard... I couldn't move, so the bastard bolted before I could finish him off."

"Did Danny say anything...?" she hedges uncertainly, then recoils as he grows angry.

" _Huh_?!"

His loud outburst makes her stare at him in surprise. Zack realizes he overreacted, and after a moment of silence, he glances away.

"...Who cares. It's nothin' you need to be worryin' about."

She can tell there's something in his voice. The visit from Danny must've really rattled him. Still, she nods her head, accepting it for now.

"...I see."

"Nevermind all that," Zack says, changing the subject and gesturing at her. "You came back alive."

His words make her reluctantly remember her inability to find what she needed. The trip down was nearly for nothing.

 _Came back alive..._

 _I did. But... with empty hands. I couldn't bring back the medicine he needed._

Watching her face fall, he frowns. "...Huh? What's wrong?"

Her lip threatens to tremble with the weight of her own failure. Ray takes a deep breath, staring down at the floor.

"...I'm sorry," she whispers. "All the medicine on B5 was gone."

Zack doesn't seem too surprised by her words, however.

"Come to think of it, that bastard muttered somethin' about havin' medicine," he affirms, and she narrows her eyes. Her own conclusion has, unfortunately, been right all along.

"So he _did_ have a hand in this..." she mumbles.

A moment of silence, before Zack speaks up again.

"...Hey, did you make it to B6 and get the stuff I told you about?" he inquires.

The memory of traversing his room fills her mind, and she widens her eyes. She'd actually nearly forgotten.

"Oh, that? Yeah," she says, nodding her head.

He grins then. "That's all I'll need... Hey, lemme see it."

Ray kneels down to the floor obediently and rifles through her bag, withdrawing the crusted knife. When she hands it to him, his eyes light up.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asks him uncertainly.

He moves the weapon in the light, grinning ear to ear. " _Alright_! Now _this_ I can wield."

She watches him, fascinated by how animated he's become. "...Is that knife yours?"

"Oh, this was my original go-to guy before all this," he explains, before shakily getting to his feet. She instantly tries to reach out to him, before withdrawing her hand, knowing he'd reject it.

"Hey, whaddaya say we get a move on?" Zack says, picking up his scythe from its place on the ground.

"No, wait," she protests quickly, also standing. "You're still in no shape to move around."

"Man, you're pesky," he complains. "I caught some major Z's earlier, so I can manage."

He starts walking away from her, but she calls out to stop him, hurrying up to him.

"Wait! Then at _least_ let me treat your wounds," she begs.

His eyes widen and he takes a fast step back from her, waving his hand to ward her off.

"Back off...! Don't get any ideas about touchin' or doin' anything to me!" he instantly commands, before chuckling. "It'll take more than some cuts and bruises to take me down, so don't you worry."

Her expression grows even more worried, and her lips press into a thin line. "...That won't do."

Zack stares at her, studying her for a minute.

"What is it with you...? You've had a weird look on yer face ever since you got here," he says, puzzled.

She opens her mouth, confused by his words but unable to say anything. She can only gaze at him, while he laughs to himself.

"Hey, do you remember what that woman on B3 said?" he asks her, and she furrows her brows.

"...Huh?"

"When I think that she was right, it makes me want to puke. But she wasn't wrong about one thing," he continues, and she instantly balks.

"No..." she protests. "You and I aren't playthings."

"Not that part," he brushes it off, shaking his head. "You already gave yer spiel on that, so I remember it."

 _If not that, then...?_

"...What, then?"

Zack steadily wanders toward her, until he stands over Ray. His hooded face gazes down at her, and she's mesmerized by the look on his face.

Something akin to resignation... of sorrowful acceptance, hidden in his eyes.

"...The part about me being a 'monster'," he says softly, a smile on his face that doesn't reach his gaze. "A 'monster' doesn't go down so easily. Wouldn't you say that was... true?"

His words feel wrong. In her heart, a locked door threatens to open, to spill out and prove him wrong. But his face... there's nothing in this world she could say to change his mind about it right now.

Dissatisfied by the way she grows even more distressed-looking, he backs away, running a dirtied hand through his hair. "Huh? C'mon now! Wouldja quit makin' that weird face? That's pretty much _normal_ for a monster. And that's always been 'normal' for _me._ "

 _Normal..._

 _Zack has been treated as a monster his whole life, hasn't he? What Cathy said doesn't feel like anything new to him, but... I... I think he's something more._

"Hey!" he snaps belligerently, interrupting her train of thought. "Quit spacin' out! Whatever the case, all we can do is keep goin' if there's no medicine. If you're not comin', then I'll leave you behind!"

"...Wait," she says, as he's about to turn on his heel and walk off. "I'll go."

"Then hurry yer ass up." He faces away, waving a hand. "But just so you know, I can't run right now."

That small admittance on his part lets her know that he's subtly hinting at his weakness. She quickly nods, feeling a little happy that he told her. "...Okay, got it."

He starts for the left-side door instead of the right, as she'd gone through before. Ray doesn't hesitate to follow his footsteps, but when she glances down, she frowns.

"There's a trail of blood," she comments. "Is this Doctor Danny's...?"

"Fuck if _I_ know," Zack says shortly. "...Well, I'm pretty sure he _was_ drippin' with blood."

"Dripping with blood... but he was still alive?"

"He was packin' insurance under his clothes," the boy growls.

She frowns. Danny's much more devious than she first thought... "...At any rate, if Danny has medicine, then we gotta track him down. Let's follow the blood trail."

The two go through the entry. It leads into a rather long, quiet hallway of pristine tile that makes her feel a tad claustrophobic, but she stays close to Zack. Observing him, she stays a step behind to see how he forces himself to press on in front of her, pretending he's not in pain.

 _I know it must hurt..._

His words about being a 'monster' are still replaying in her ears, and she can't help it when she opens her mouth and lets her own curiosity reign.

"...Hey, Zack," she says, and he pauses to turns his head her way.

"Huh? What's up?"

"Earlier you referred to yourself as a monster," she says slowly. "Does that mean you're not human?"

He blinks, raising a brow.

"...Well, let me ask you— define 'human' for me," he replies. "What's a 'decent human being' to you?"

His response leaves her speechless for a moment. When he directly presents the question to her, at first she has no answer. She grasps at straws for a moment.

"...Those desired by God...?" she finally says uncertainly.

His expression sours quickly. "Huh? What the hell? Is that all you freakin' think about?"

Ray opens her mouth again, but thinks better of it, frowning to herself. He continues on, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, I'm a 'decent' and 'normal' guy no matter what," he tells her, before a strange smile creeps over his face.

"...Or am I something else? Does your so-called _God_ say it's unforgivable to be killed by a monster?"

His sentence drips with acidic malice, as if meant to burn her, and she recoils, looking down.

 _No... No, he..._

"...No, my God doesn't say that...!" she whispers, feeling her face heat up. Just the thought of Zack saying that in such a strangely accusatory tone makes her angry, and she shouts at him uncontrollably for a moment, her eyes pained. "My God... _doesn't say that!"_

Her outburst leaves Zack silent. Her quick show of emotion makes him gape at her in surprise, before he glances away, running a dirtied hand through his messy black hair. Something akin to chagrin flashes over his features.

"...Look at you gettin' all serious now," he mumbles. "...Aww, _shit._ I said somethin' dumb... Fuck. Let's get goin'."

Without waiting for her to respond, he moves on without her, pushing his injured body forward. Ray stands there staring after him, feeling her heartbeat drumming in her chest loudly.

 _My God... would never say that. Isn't that right... Zack?_

Feeling a little bothered by how she yelled at him, she stays quiet for a bit, but the thoughts of his statement and of him being a 'monster' don't go away. They turn a corner, and she finally manages the courage to speak to him again.

"...Hey, Zack. Were you... staying in the room, where I found that knife?"

"...What about that room?" he responds, his tone cold and callous. She frowns deeper, feeling like she's suddenly treading on thin ice.

 _Is he touchy about that place...?_

"...I was just curious," she tells him, and he turns to look at her funny.

"Huh?"

"This... has to do with what we talked about earlier, but... I know nothing about you, Zack," she cautiously says., unable to meet his gaze now for some reason. "Yeah... for some reason, I... just got curious..."

Zack stares at her. "...What the hell. _Man,_ you're weird."

Searching for something else to say to that, she just blurts out, "Umm, I think... that room could use a bit more tidying up..."

His expression darkens, and he raises a hand in a flippant gesture. "Oh, who the fuck _cares_? It's not like I'm _ever_ goin' back there again, so it doesn't matter anyway!"

Now he's the one who's angry, and he walks ahead of her again. Her lips seal together in a thin line, filled with a sense of regret. Maybe she pried too far...?

 _But, he's right... He_ _is_ _escaping this place once and for all._

Ray trails behind him. The hall opens up, feeling less enclosed than before, but the flickering light of the torches adoring the sides make it feel eerie. As they walk, she passes by a strange, ripped painting on the wall— what looks like a torn painting of a snake.

 _It looks almost identical to the one I had ripped before..._

Realizing he's still leaving her behind despite his slowed gait, she quickly catches up to him. The air between them is tangibly tense, and it bothers her quite a bit.

Abruptly behind them, she hears a loud crash. Their footsteps pause there, and she turns around, hesitantly scanning the path they'd taken. It's dark where they'd come from, as if the torches went out at the corner of the hall, and her sense of foreboding is strong.

"I hear something..." she says quietly, blue eyes flickering from place to place. After everything she went through on this floor already, she's bracing herself for more of the same.

From the darkness, there's a loud, emanant hiss— no, not a single one. More like... a hundred. A chorus of hissing, and the slither of far too many scaled bodies, slinking out into the light for her and Zack to see.

"Snakes...?" she says, her eyes growing wide in surprise.

They're like miniature versions of the giant one that had chased her to Zack before. She's left standing there in a daze, staring at the approaching crowd of snakes. Could they be illusions too? How could there be so many...?

They're quick to come near, and she watches as one slides to her feet, baring its fangs in preparation to bite her— until a blade cuts through it, slicing the snake in half. Blood sprays across the ground, and the severed body of the serpent flies out into the oncoming barrage.

Zack slips in front of her, pushing her back by her shoulder with his crimson-edged dagger tightly gripped between his fingers.

"Hey! Quit spacin' out!" he shouts, glancing at her. "It's the real thing this time!"

 _The real thing?_

Everything snaps into focus, and she realizes he's right. The snakes coming toward them _are_ real, the splash of red liquid along the tile being enough evidence of that. Her expression falters, and he shoves her back again.

" _Run!_ " he yells. "Go on ahead without me and find a way outta here!"

Her throat closes up, and words seem impossible to form. He ignores her, moving forward to cut another snake into pieces, then another. Though the edge of his knife is sharp, he's only able to take them out slowly. One of them hisses and lunges, but he knocks it out of the air in time— resulting in being out of breath for a moment, grumbling.

"Aww, _shit,_ " he curses. "I can't slash 'em all in one go with this dinky knife!"

Ray stays rooted in place, watching him face off against the horde of serpents. She's torn, wondering if she should stay and try to help, or do as he says. He catches sight of her still standing there, and roars.

"Hey! I thought I told you to _hurry_!"

She blinks and steps back, clutching at her purse in clammy fingertips. "...Okay!"

 _Hurry, I have to hurry...! I'll do what he said!_

Ray whirls around and runs back. A door is seated on the wall just a few feet away, and she hurries to it. The wood is beaten down and breaking, and when she tries the handle, she finds it's unlocked— a small reprieve, thank goodness. The sounds of Zack fighting with the creatures behind her feels loud in her ears, and she calls out to him.

"...Found the exit! And it's unlocked!" she tells him quickly. "Zack! There's a way out here!"

"I'm coming," he shouts back to her, making a half swipe with his scythe and backing up slowly. "So wait for me!"

"...Hurry, Zack!" she says, feeling dread overcome here. Her eyes are glued to his struggle, and she's starting to feel like she needs to run over and help him. Her heartbeat is painful, pounding under her ribcage.

 _...Ssss..._

Ray freezes up. Her gaze slowly goes up, above the doorway, as another similar noise joins the raucous chorus far too close to her.

From the ceiling, a long white snake is uncoiled and rearing back over her. The fangs gleam, long and sharp, and it hisses at her venomously.

The girl steps backwards, hitting the hallway behind her. It's so enclosed that there's little place for her to run, and the snake looks ready to spring any second.

"... _Ah_...!" she squeaks out, her voice failing her.

The serpent lunges at her. Ray throws her arms over her face, closing her eyes and waiting for the painful feeling of the teeth sinking into her skin, of poison threading through her system.

There's a strange noise, and a breeze washes over her as something runs in front of her braced figure. Liquid sprays across the tile, and the hiss dies off as something heavy hits the ground.

Lowering her arms carefully, she's shocked to see Zack standing there in front of her. His shoulders are heaving with exertion, but his face is filled with unreadable fury. He must've flown over as soon as he saw she was about to be attacked. Her eyes are wide.

"...Zack...?"

His breathing is shallow. To her confusion, he's holding his scythe in both hands. He'd been too weak to wield it before, but he's got it handled in his gauzy, vise-like grasp... meaning he must've used it just now to slay the snake.

 _Zack saved me just now...?_

"...This is... _bullshit_..." he breathes out, closing his eyes and trying to catch up to himself. "I... can't run, my scythe's too heavy— what kinda torture are you puttin' me through...?!"

He grunts, and to her horror, she realizes that blood is dripping onto the floor underneath him. The crimson fluid is staining his hoodie where his gunshot wound and stomach gash are, and she gasps.

"Zack, you're bleeding...!" she manages, but he growls to stop her.

"Hey, let's _move!_ " he cuts her off, turning to look at her, wincing. Even through his mask of bandages she can tell he's in agony. "I didn't kill all the snakes!"

 _Zack...!_

Though she's worried, she bobs her head. "...Okay! Let's get out of here!"

Moving past him, she throws open the door. He moves as quickly as he can through, and she shuts it tightly behind her, locking the snakes out.

They've entered a hallway of stained glass. The floor beneath them is dull blue marble, reflecting the light from the colorful glass panels on either side. It's peaceful, but her mind is a mess wondering if Zack is alright.

The two walk side by side, carefully, slowly. Zack pushes himself along step by step, slowed down to almost a crawl, and she keeps looking over and checking him. He leaves a nasty trail of blood behind him, as if marking the path they've taken.

Barely a few feet within, Zack collapses, falling face forward onto the marble. She utters his name in fear, helping him sit up. After helping him get positioned against the brown brick wall, he cusses low under his breath, pressing a hand to his head.

"Damn... I feel weak again," he says angrily.

Ray kneels down in front of him, leaning over. "...Stay put and take it easy. It might be fatal."

"Hey... I told you that it'd take more than this to take me down," he protests, but she shakes her head.

"Nope. I won't have it. Stay put," she says firmly, her blue eyes filled with worry.

Zack gazes at her, his heterochromatic eyes trained on her face, before glancing away.

"That... That _look_ on your face..." he murmurs to himself.

Her brows knit together. Look? What look? Right now, all that matters is his well-being... or lack thereof.

"Zack... Just take it easy here," she tells him, welling up her determination. "From here on out, I'll manage by myself. I promise to find some medicine this time!"

 _I can't fail him like last time. I have to find medicine for him. I need to save him._

"...Hey. You've been actin' weird for a while now," he tells her slowly, looking at her seriously. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"...Huh?" she blinks.

"That gloomy face...!" he presses her, narrowing his gaze. " _What?_ Do you know somethin' I don't?!"

 _Gloomy face..._

"No, I..." she begins. However, she thinks better of it. There's no time to explain, or try to put how she feels into words right now. "Nevermind that. I gotta find some medicine as soon as possible..."

"Don't ignore my question!" he demands. "Plus, you're as good as dead out there without me!"

Instead of feeling intimidated by his statement, she just shakes her head.

"Oh... I have a gun. As long as I have this... even if that doctor's around..." she tells him.

He seems a little irked, before continuing. "Alright, then let me see it."

This time she balks. She shrinks back a bit. In all honesty, it'd be simpler if he didn't look at it, but... she can't lie to him or hide things.

"Hey," he grows more agitated, "Let me _see_ it-"

Ray whips out the gun from her purse, startling him. Gripping the metallic weapon in her hand, she cocks it and aims it at him.

"— Bang!" she intones, her finger pressed to the trigger.

He blinks at her, but she lowers it slowly and slides it over to him. The boy takes it in his hand, and examines it. When he smiles, it's irritable.

"...Crap. No bullets," he frowns. He tosses it back into her lap. "Hey, what's the point of packin' an unloaded gun?! What are you thinkin'?"

Ray's quiet as he lectures her. He looks down, exhaling loudly.

"Awww shit! If _that's_ all you're takin', then you're just gonna get yourself killed out there...! Aren't you willin' to be killed by _me?!_ "

 _Of course I am. That's my choice. I..._

Her words are trapped inside her, unwilling to be spoken.

"Even so," he continues, "you're freakin' out over the fact that I could bite the big one. ...Whaddaya want from me? What's goin' through yer head?"

Ray sits silently for a moment.

"...You swore to God for me."

Zack rolls his eyes and sighs. "Shit. Here we go again... Can you really trust a monster to follow through on a promise like that?"

 _A monster... might not. But, Zack..._

"...You're not a liar, right?" she asks him softly, meeting his gaze.

Zack returns her look before nodding. "Nope, my word is my word!"

"Then..." she mumbles, but he pipes in, matter-of-fact.

"But... _there's no God in this world_."

Just like that, Ray feels the air leave her body. Her throat closes in on itself, and her hands ball at her sides. She opens her mouth, closes it, trying to reply. To fault his confident statement.

He'd said it so strongly, without a shred of hesitance... It tears at her, rips apart something she's been holding onto so dearly.

"You're wrong," she says, panic seeping into her voice.

"Ah...?" he raises a brow, watching her.

"If no God exists, then... What..." Her thoughts are hard to string together, and she feels like crumbling apart into sand right where she kneels. Her fingernails dig into the meat of her palm. "What... am I supposed to do...?"

Ray shakes her head, desperate to convey herself.

"But, Zack, it's not just that you swore to God for me," she firmly says. "Even if someone were to swear to God for me... it wouldn't be the same."

Her heart feels like it's flying at a million miles an hour. Her emotions feel raw, as if they've peeked out from where they've lain dormant.

Even she doesn't understand them entirely. But they've led her here, to Zack— to be at his side.

" _What_ then?" Zack presses her.

"I..." Her tongue feels like lead, knotted in her mouth. "I don't know. ... _I don't know._ I'm sorry..."

As she grips the edges of her shorts, he frowns at her deeply. His eyes flash with something unreadable as he observes her, as if seeing her like this bothers him.

"What the hell is _up_ with you...?" He pauses. Then he raises a hand, tapping the corner of his mouth.

"Do me a favor... and _smile!_ "

"Huh?" she says, lost for a moment by his request. She looks away, feeling inadequate for the task.

 _Smile... But I don't think I can do it._

"But right now, I don't know if I can do it right," she tells him, upset.

"I know you suck at it!" he says hotly, trained on her. "Just do it!"

Ray stares at him, unable to puzzle out a reason why he so adamantly wants her to do something she's so awful at.

 _Why, Zack...? Why do you want me to smile...?_

Even if she wants to question it, she won't refuse him. So she takes a deep breath, and tries to force a smile like the ones before. She _knows_ it looks wrong, that she can't pull off the serene, 'happy' smile he wants. Her eyes are still worried, and she's still wound as tight as a taut wire.

Zack observes her attempt, his colorful eyes cloudy. She watches him mumble something she can't hear— and then he slumps over, sliding down the wall and lying on his side.

"...Zack?!" she chokes, moving closer to him quickly. He's still breathing, but his eyes are closed.

"...I'm gonna sleep now," he tells her quietly. "Do whatever you like."

 _So he's not dead... Thank goodness. He really... gave me a scare._

 _I guess he doesn't feel like telling me how bad my smile is. I'm so worried... I have to get get him medicine as soon as possible._

Ray pulls herself up to her feet, but Zack calls to her again before she has a chance to leave.

"Hey..." He tosses something off to her side, before folding his arms down over his waist. "Take this. It's prolly too much for you, though..."

His knife lies at her feet. She can't take her eyes off the crusted, yet sharp blade, not expecting such an act on his part. For him to let her use the knife he cares about so much...

"...Zack," she mumbles, wanting to ask him why he'd give it to her, but he's silent. Before even she's realized, he's fallen asleep, his chest rising steadily if a little stilted.

Her gaze drawn back to the weapon on the floor, she picks it up. It's not nearly as heavy as the scythe has been, fitting better into her palm. It's a little long and awkward, but she grips it tightly. If Zack's giving it to her— _entrusting_ her with it, to protect herself, she'll do her best to use it.

 _This knife... I wonder if I can wield it._

 _...Thank you, Zack._

Giving him a last look, she moves on down the hall, to the door that awaits her there. The familiar pipe organ filters through the walls, washing over her.

Entering another, narrow hallway, she takes a few steps down it before she's hit with that cloying, sweet scent once again. It seems to come from the flickering torches themselves, and she cringes.

 _...This sweet scent... Phew, it's getting to me... It's making me feel woozy. Smells like it must be dangerous._

 _I gotta... gotta hurry..._

 _...For Zack..._

Fighting off the dizziness, she hurries down the hall, forcing her way past it til she reaches a wider room with an ornate, large gate sealed before her. Water runs on either side of the room, little streams of no importance.

 _The gate is shut and there's no lock. What do I do? Is there a mechanism for this?_

Ray glances over the water, and she winces as the smell grows even stronger. Something about the water seems off, disgusting and fishy mixed with a saccharine flavor. It almost makes her feel sick.

 _What_ _is_ _this stuff?_

On one side, something is hidden under the water. A thick stone button at the bottom and she raises a brow at it suspiciously.

 _I think I can press this... Could it be a switch?_

Ray tries to reach into the water, but the moment her fingertips are about to touch, it sizzles and she withdraws quickly.

 _This water would burn my skin if I touch it... I gotta press it without letting the water touch me._

A strange, almost silly idea forms in her head, and she glances down at the knife in her hand.

 _I wonder if I can dip my knife in the water...?_

Pushing the knife down, it hisses upon contact, but she manages to press the button hidden beneath the surface. The gate opens thankfully, and she withdraws it.

 _...It opened._ She glances at the knife, frowning. _...Ah, the knife... it's alright._

The weapon seems a little worse for wear, but still usable thankfully.

Ray hurries through the open gate, but she comes upon another similar entrance. Her frustration grows evident on her features.

 _Here too, huh...?_ She glances around, surveying the area. _There's a large lever. It looks like I could open the gate with it._

However, when she tries to move it, it doesn't budge. It looks like it needs some kind of power to operate it.

 _Where can I get something like that?_

Ray frowns to herself, wandering until she realizes there's something sticking out of the wall near the gate. A severed electrical cord, buzzing with power.

 _If I could somehow supply power... but with what?_

Again, her gaze falls to the knife in her hand. It's metal, and electricity should pass through, so... wouldn't that work? But what a strange thing to try...

 _Here goes nothing..._

She jams the knife between the electric current. It zaps, but the electricity flows through the metal blade and into the gate.

 _...Now power's supplied._

She hurries to it and switches the lever, opening the gate. It's a relief when it's out of the way.

 _I gotta hurry and remove the knife from the electrical cord._

Running back and pulling the knife from the cord, she frowns at it. Now the handle is a little melted and crisp, the plastic warped in places, but at least still usable.

 _The blade is still fine. I wonder if it's okay to keep using it like this?_

Deciding to keep going with it, she enters the final room. All that resides within the stone walls is a single mirror that she approaches cautiously, recalling the one that had shattered with her image still engraved over it.

 _What to do...? There doesn't seem to be anything else here,_ she worries, before settling her eyes on the mirror. Her face stares back, etched with the concern and desperation she's feeling right now. She studies the reflection of the knife in her hand, raising it in front of her. At this point, the idea that comes to her is much less odd, but she feels like it may be her only option.

 _This mirror... can I break it with my knife?_

 _There's only one way to find out._

Reeling back, Ray thrusts the knife into the shining glass surface. It spiderwebs immediately, the knife stuck in its center, and she lets go of it and steps back, frowning at the sight.

 _...I did it..._

it does look different, for some reason. In fact, though she sliced into the mirror, the knife appears to be hitting something else.

 _It... kinda looks like the knife is stabbing a knife._

Ignoring the rather confusing display, she studies the rest. _The mirror's rigid, but it looks like Zack's knife can penetrate it._

 _...Alright._

Taking hold of the battered knife once again, she rips it out and slams it back into the glass— over, and over, and over again. She cracks and shatters the entire panel, the shards falling inward toward the doorway on the other side.

The last thrust into the mirror causes something to give way, and something else breaks along with it. She takes a step back, examining the knife and biting her lip.

 _...Oh, the knife... The mirror broke, but the knife blade got chipped in the process..._

 _...Sorry, Zack,_ she thinks regretfully.

Putting the knife in her purse, she carefully wedges her way through the mirror, avoiding the jagged edges and slipping inside. The pipe organ is much louder within, and she looks around to see what kind of room she's in.

A small stone bridge cross to a grand door ahead, and a small stream flows underneath, filled with the sweet-smelling water from before. She crosses it and stands in front of the gate, looking up at the intimidating entry.

 _The sound of an organ... I can hear it coming from further back here..._

 _...Gotta keep going._

Ray pushes open the doors, and is promptly blasted with loud organ music. The inside is dark, but she can see well enough to recognize the pews and tile under her feet.

 _...This is..._

That sweet, awful smell invades her nose, seemingly strongest in this room. It burns her nostrils and her throat, and she coughs.

 _...Ugh... what's with this sweet scent...?!_

Her world fades to a strange, vivid pink-purple. The organ music is pressing on her thoughts, ransacking her mindset and feeling more discordant with every note.

A booming set of voices speak directly into her head, as if relived memories, playing back for her as if she's rewound a tape.

" _Do you not think that it is God's will to determine what shall come to pass?"_

" _Should the will of God differ from your own, what then will you do?_ "

" _There's no God in this world._ "

"...No!"

Her own voice screams out, her hands reaching up to grip at the sides of her head, to force out the negative emotions flooding her small body. Doubt and confusion fill her.

" _No!_ _No_ _!_ Stop it!" she cries out.

The purple haze vanishes for a moment, as if a spell has been broken, and she feels less terrorized by the music. Lowering her hands, her blonde bangs fall into her face. Her chest heaves.

"I want Zack to kill me..." she utters aloud, desperate. "I don't want him to die... but if God doesn't acknowledge me, or if he doesn't _exist_ , then... What am I supposed to...?"

A whirlwind of fear and worries attack her mentally, but she uses her will to force them out, wildly trying to keep herself composed.

 _Nope... Now's not the time to think of such things. At any rate, I gotta hurry and get medicine... Gotta get the medicine..._

It's like a chant she utters to herself as she moves forward, further into the cathedral. As she walks deeper into the room, she sees Gray standing in front of the bloodied pipe organ, facing the keys.

He turns to her as she approaches him, unsurprised by her return. He raises a brow.

"Why do you return alone, Rachel Gardner?" he inquires, a strange smile on his face. "And what became of Zack? Did you leave him behind?"

"...No!" she tells him quickly. "Zack can't move, so I just came looking for some medicine to treat his wounds! I know that Doctor Danny came to this floor and has medicine. That's why..."

"Oh, _Danny_ , is it?"

Gray's sharp features contort into disdain, his smile switching to a displeased grimace.

"That man is on a rampage of mindless self-indulgence. I truly wonder when his downward spiral began... Ah," he says, pinpointing her with his pupil-less eyes, "Come to think of it... Danny is the one that brought _thee_ here."

Ray has little to say to the man's words, and he chuckles low, mirthless.

"Speechless, are we?" he asks.

His tangent holds no meaning for her in her pursuit of Zack's medicine. Though he seems accusing once more, she doesn't want to waste time on it.

"...Never mind that," she brushes him off. "Is there no medicine here? Where did Danny go with the medicine?"

Gray's expression doesn't change, only hardening, though he smirks lightly.

"It appears Danny is not himself. He briefly revealed himself to me, though... his _current_ whereabouts? Only God knows. Although he hath let his selfishness get the best of him..." He briefly nods his head. "...I took several vials of medicine from him."

Those few words trigger her, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. She takes a hesitant step forward, her own desperation bringing her closer to the priest.

"Then you know where I can find some?!" she asks him fast.

 _He knows... he has some! I can give it to Zack!_

"Indeed," he acknowledges.

"Please, let me have it," she begs him.

 _He can't refuse! That medicine can heal Zack— he can get better! I can save him!_

However, the priest simply stares at her soullessly, untouched by her display of emotion.

"...Do you really think it can be obtained that easily, Rachel Gardner?"

His face is enough to tell her that he has no intention of allowing her to walk out with the medicine. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears, but it and her thoughts are telling her the exact same thing.

 _He can't stop me. He can't keep it from me, from_ _Zack_ _. I won't let him. I... I'll do whatever it takes it get it from him._

She doesn't waste a second. Ray reaches into her purse and withdraws the knife, pointing it directly at the preacher without a shred of hesitance in her action, yet her hands waver with the weight of what she's trying to do.

He simply looks perturbed by it. "...You would point that chipped knife of Zack's at me with trembling hands?"

She falters further for a moment, not expecting him to be so knowledgeable about it. The fact that he knows about the knife at all bothers her.

"...How did you know this was Zack's knife?" she demands.

Gray shakes his head. "... _Oh_ , I know... 'Twas I who brought him here. Though look at him... his body is a battered, tattered bloody mess. ...And thou hast deceived him..."

His eyes grow stony.

"...You _foul demon._ " He spits the words at her. " _Witch_."

 _Witch._

 _Demon..._

 _'Thou hast deceived him'._

"...No..." she whimpers.

The world under her feet begins to shake uncontrollably, and she's left off balance for a moment. As she tries to catch herself, she sees Gray in the corner of her eye whipping out something. A fine pink mist sprays out over her, and she's hit with a noxious cloud of the sickly, fishy sweet scent. It's so strong she can barely stand it for a second.

"...This is...!" she chokes.

It's too late for her to react. Zack's knife falls from her hand, and she crumbles to the floor in a hazy lump, the world going dark around her.

 **.x.X.x.**

" _Rachel, what has thou done to them?_ "

" _Danny was a smart and sensible man. Which is exactly why he knew this place like the back of his hand, and refrained from self-indulgent conduct. And what about Isaac? He is quite simple; to rephrase it, quite pure._ "

" _And now he is treated horribly, greatly suffering to grant your wish to die by his hand. Wouldn't you agree this all transpired since your encounter?_

"I... haven't done anything..."

" _You are an enigma, Rachel. Just who are you?"_

Silence.

" _Not willing to answer? Let me remind you that you stand before God. ...Aha! Just as I suspected; you have no true faith in God._ "

"...No, I believe in following the word of God."

" _Then, why is that? Why do you feel that way?_ "

More pregnant silence, and a low, unamused sound of disapproval.

"... _'Tis not that you 'will not answer'. 'Tis that you 'cannot answer', correct?"_

 _"Rachel Gardner. Your heart is smeared by deceit simply by virtue of the belief that God has chosen you. And you are a witch who means to deceive my angels!_ "

" _No!_ "

" _Well then! You shall be put on trial to find out!"_

There's a heavy white flash. As Ray regains her eyesight, she finds herself standing in the center of a wide, circular courtroom platform. She's placed at the defendant's stand, where a spotlight is illuminating her. A huge cross is behind her, and all around her, crimson silhouettes line up in raucous harmony, an audience for her downfall.

At the center stage of it all, Gray walks up to the judge's perch, gazing down at her with distrust and prejudice already written over his body language.

"God desires the pure," he intones from above. "And you are charged with being a witch who hast deceived my angels! In any case, you must be cleansed."

Ray places her hands on the stand, meeting his gaze in protest. "I am not a witch."

 _I'm not. I don't know why I'm here. Why is this happening?_

"...Nay, you are a witch who forged a pact with Isaac, are you not?" he clarifies for her unhappily, and it sets her teeth on edge with frustration.

"My promise with Zack... is a sworn oath to God," she says meaningfully, trying to get her point through to him. Nothing she's said has been lies, or deceiving— her oath with Zack has been nothing but truth!

 _I can feel the eyes of these nameless people on me right now, staring straight into my soul... Just like Gray is._

"Ha! You would even dare to use God as your shield!" Gray sneers. "Then let me emphasize what you need not forget... 'Tis not your choice to make, but that of God's!"

Ray reels back, not enjoying the look on the older man's face as he throws his hands out in a gesture, as if signalling to each faceless shadow around them.

"...Now we shall contest thee! Let the trial commence! Is anyone present to testify against this person?"

" _There suuurrreee is! Right heeerrreeee!_ "

A flash, and to Ray's left, a figure appears in a burst of light. To her shock and horror, a familiar woman poses nearby, raising her favorite riding crop as if saluting her audience.

"Hello all! I'm your witness!" Cathy cheerfully says, blowing a kiss outward.

Ray can't believe her eyes. Even though the woman looks vastly different— her hair is pink and purple, and her colors are more of a muted neon than before— she's still unmistakably Cathy.

 _But, she... she's dead...!_

" _I'll_ testify why this wonderful sinner is such a cruel, heartless woman!" she exclaims, winking, as if nothing's out of the ordinary.

" _Hold it! Don't leave me out!_ "

Another flash on her right this time, and a green-colored Eddie materializes nearby, shovel in hand. He glances at her, and then bows his head, his mask curved into a grin.

"I could testify all day about what makes Rachel so lovely!" he says, before growing saddened. "But knowing how stubborn she is, I'm more in the mood to humiliate her!"

" _I'm the only one who can testify for who she truly is!_ "

This time the flash is behind her, and Ray whirls around to see an azure Doctor Danny standing right at her back, smiling down at her as soon as she comes face to face with him.

"Ahh, Rachel!" he says happily, his misshapen and disturbing eyes blink as it focuses on her. "Rest assured as I am here in your corner! I'm here to defend you. Remember; I'm on your side."

 _How...?_

Ray steps back into her stand, bumping against the rail and looking between the three on all sides. She's not sure if she's seeing illusions or the real spirits of Eddie and Cathy themselves. It shouldn't be possible, but as of late, it seems anything is viable in this place. Yet she can't get over the shock of seeing the dead in spirit form, nor can she figure out if Danny is his true self.

"Hmm..." Gray notes to himself, spectating them. "A testimonial triumvirate of sorts... Very well. Each shalt take a turn giving a testimony. Now, who shall go first...?"

"Me! Me!" Cathy's hand shoots into the air— a shock for Ray, remember that it was severed back on B3. "Reverend! Pick me to go first!"

"Huh? That's not fair, Cathy!" Eddie whines, stomping his foot. "I called firsties!"

She tsks, waving her riding crop dismissively. "No offense, Eddie, but that's just not gonna happen. I'm first in line!"

"Why, oh why? You didn't even give a reason!" he counters, upset. She just laughs.

"The biggest victim of this woman's villainy is moi! Unlike _you_ creeps, I didn't become sickly infatuated with her from the start!"

Eddie pounds his shovel into the floor angrily. "Oh God! Why you gotta be so hysterical all the time?!"

"That's quite a mouth you have, Cathy," Danny pipes up, shaking his head. "I look forward to your testimony."

"Make _haste,_ " Gray also comments, folding his arms in front of him and snugly holding onto his holy book. "I grow impatient... Have the witnesses reached a decision yet?"

The trio straightens up, intimidated by his authority, but Cathy easily waves her hand. "Yes, Reverend! I will be going first!"

"Aww, man. You always gotta get _your_ way," Eddie huffs.

"Alright, Eddie," Danny says peacefully, gesturing. "Let's take our leave for now."

Danny vanishes, and after a hesitant moment, Eddie does too, both of them disappearing in a puff of colored smoke. Ray glances at the empty spots, as Gray intones from above.

"You may begin your testimony, Catherine Ward."

"I got this in the bag!" the woman grins, finger-gunning the crowd.

Then she hops over her own pedestal, sitting down on the edge and crossing her long legs gracefully, brushing her fingers over her chin as she speaks and toying with her riding crop.

"Listen well, ladies and gentleman!" she sings. "This demon may look like an innocent, gentle woman on the outside... but her heart is black as charcoal! A bona fide _witch!_ "

"...I am not," Ray protests quietly, earning the magenta woman's ire. She points the riding crop in Ray's direction, gesturing.

"Case in point! She lies through her teeth! A calm and collected pathological liar!"

"Hmm... Is there any evidence in thine testimony to prove Rachel a witch?" Gray asks, to which Cathy's smile grows wide with malice.

"Yes! Like you wouldn't believe!"

Her riding crop slams down on the pedestal, a loud smack, and then she's crushing the thin stick in her fingers, gripping it tight enough to bend it.

"I was cast down from my position as condemner by her malicious hand! There I was, sitting high and mighty, watching the torture unfold. Then Zack proceeded to slash himself— because this woman told him something! One could say Isaac Foster's stature as a sinner was crippled by this meddling woman!"

Her face is filled with outrage now, and the riding crop looks ready to snap in two under her relentless pressure.

"The whole display was so _pathetic_ that it made me furious! I ventured down to meet them head on! Then, whaddaya think this woman does without batting an eyelash?!"

There's a loud, sudden gunshot that resounds through the room, startling Ray, but it appears no one was hit. No— Only Cathy looks affected, gripping her stomach as if she can feel the phantom pain of the shot.

"She _shoots_ me!" she yells out. "A condemner outfoxed and shot by a sinner— that's not something that should ever happen! That woman's nothing but a wiley wolf in sinful sheep's clothing! I mean... how _could_ she? Cast me down to such a horrid place... Only a _demon_ could do such a thing!"

After listening to Cathy's spiel, Ray feels her tension increase. Still, she glances away.

"...Not really," she murmurs. "I have no memory of intentionally outfoxing you, or destroying your reputation."

Cathy's riding crop again strikes against the pedestal, and she grips the edge in her black gloved hands.

"You did _too_ destroy it! You demon!" she shrieks. "And do you have any idea what hurts most of all?! She _enjoyed_ shooting me!"

Her laughter rings out through this void-like place, and Ray cringes as she continues on, basking in her triumphant accusation.

"...There's no ifs, ands or buts about it— this is a witch we're dealing with," Cathy growls, somehow still in a sweet upbeat tone. "I vote for water torture! Hehe!"

Suddenly the entire courtroom is filled with water. Ray's submerged to her neck in rushing water, while Cathy stands off to the side and observes with a wild smile on her face.

"I wanna see you struggle and squirm!" she declares. "Give me a rush of excitement that even surpasses last time!"

Ray, somehow not fighting against the currents in the ways, turns to look at Cathy with a frown.

"...Do you wanna see it that badly?" she asks, causing the woman to falter.

"Huh?"

"Do you truly want that to happen to me?" Ray presses.

"I've heard enough," Gray cuts in, before the pink-colored woman can reply.

The water is gone as abruptly as it had come in, returning the courtroom to its natural state. Cathy leaps forward, immediate complaints on her lips.

"Reverend?! We still haven't sentenced her yet?!"

" _You_ are not the sentencer, Catherine Ward," Gray shuts her down. "Besides, what do you seek from someone whom you deem to be a witch? ...That will be all."

Cathy looks like she has much more to say, but she simply huffs and bursts into a puff of colorful smoke, leaving Ray and Gray alone in the sea of nameless jury members.

"Moving on, I call the next witness," he says without missing a beat. "State your testimony against her."

"Yippee!" Eddie reappears to herright once more, bowing low in greeting. "It's finally my turn! You guys are all so self-centered... Try and have a little compassion! Right, Rachel?"

"Edward Mason," Gray addresses him coolly, no-nonsense. "Are you capable of testifying against this person?"

"Yep, Reverend! I sure am! I'll go over the good, and the _bad_ about her!"

"Then begin," the priest gestures.

Eddie moves forward, ready and raring to go. He casts a smile toward Ray, before looking around.

"Err... Rachel is such a cutie!" he says. "Her voice is like a songbird's— my favorite type of voice! That, and she's kinda like me. We're also close in age as well! Plus, the way she knows exactly what she wants and goes for it! Which is exactly why I should've met you earlier, Rachel."

He comes up to his side of her stand, looking at her and clearing his throat.

"I, uh... knew who you were. But the reason I fell for you was, uh... Because I knew you were a lot like me. Rachel, I know what you did! it was you who buried the bird on B6, right?"

Mental images of the bird's sewn body reflect in her mind's eye, and she nods slowly. "...Yes."

" _That's_ why I was convinced we'd have chemistry," he replies. "Not to mention that you spoke of wanting to die; the perfect wish for me. But, Rachel... you got a bit stubborn, didn't you?"

His thick gloved hands grip onto the rail as he looks around, seeming irritated now as he recalls their experience on his floor.

"You didn't listen to anything I had to say. I tried so hard to charm my way into your heart in so many ways! Everything... _everything_ was for you, Rachel. But... it was no use."

He steps away from her, facing off toward the crowd now, his shovel tapping against the wooden floor.

"Even though you never accepted my advances, I held out in hopes that you'd eventually say yes! I even came to sweep you off your feet in total darkness, too! And after all that, guess what happened to me?"

A loud crash, and Ray leans back as a large graveston crushes Eddie right then and there, the very same one that Zack had dropped over his grave back then.

"I was slashed by Zack, and left all by my lonesome in a grave!" His voice emanates outward. "I like graves and all, but that wasn't the ending I desired at all! But that's where I finally realized the biggest thing that sets us apart... I really wanted Rachel— _everything_ was for _her!_

"...But Rachel was _different_."

The gravestone vanishes, replaced by Eddie himself, whose emerald eye stares a hole right through Ray.

"Rachel did everything for herself and herself only!" He complains aloud. "How mean! You meanie! Her sugary whispers about wanting to be killed were all for _her_ sake only! How truly self-centered and selfish! And _stubborn_! _Oh-so_ stubborn! I also have no clue why you'd pick _Zack_ over _me_! This is probably just Rachel being selfish again!"

He slams a fist down on his pedestal, his small shoulders heaving with his own anger after his long-winded speech.

"She shows _no_ regard for anyone's happiness! And that got me thinking; isn't all of that something that a witch would do...? Right?" He turns on her, his face dark and unreadable under his mask. "Don't you think so, Rachel?"

"That's why..." He faces up to Gray, and waves a hand outward. "I vote that Rachel be sentenced to hang in a spike-laden pit of death!"

As abruptly as the water from Cathy's vote, Ray finds herself swinging above the spikes Eddie desires, a thick rope wrapped around her body to suspend her.

"Straight down the pit she'll go!" Eddie giggles. "And only then will I make her happy!"

Ray's quiet as she stares down at the spikes beneath her, nibbling her lip, and it bothers the younger boy.

"...What? Are you angry?" he asks her, a hint of chagrin in his high voice. "...So-Sorry! But it's all your fault!"

She still offers no answer, and he takes a step nearer, sheepish.

"...Talk to me!" he pleads. "Don't ignore me!"

" _Enough._ "

Gray's booming, authoritative voice takes over, and with a wave of a hand, she's free from her place and returned to the normal ground. Eddie slams his shovel into the floor, looking up at the reverend with surprise.

"What?! But wait— Rachel hasn't answered me about anything yet!"

"You are being misguided by the likes of a witch, Edward Mason," Gray intones, his jaw clenched tight. "A witch can see right through a heart that embraces and fears her. That will be all."

Eddie evaporates into a cloud of green color, and Gray doesn't waste a moment in continuing on.

"An unyielding witch, you are," he reprimands her, smiling unamusedly.

"I'm not a witch," she persists.

He takes a deep breath, ignoring her claim. "Moving on. I call the next witness. State thine testimony against her."

"Are the ridiculous testimonies over now?"

Danny appears behind her, and she glances back at him. He's all smiles, far too happy to be here in this place testifying against her. He offers her a reassuring grin.

"Heya, Rachel. You seem at ease, no? Are you relieved I'm here?"

"Daniel Dickens," Gray cuts in. "You are willing to testify?"

"Yes, of course, Reverend," he replies easily, pushing his glasses up his nose a bit. "I mean, somebody's gotta do a decent job of testifying for Rachel. _I_ must be the one to sing Rachel's praises. Hey, Rachel..."

He looks down at her, his mismatched eyes intense despite his happy demeanor.

"You know I'd never misunderstand you, right?"

"Then _begin,_ " Gray growls out, disdainful.

Danny raises an arm in gesture, shaking his head. "To be truthful, it's ridiculous to testify about something so plain as the light of day. That's how much everyone misunderstands Rachel."

His expression grows wistful, almost nostalgic. He takes a few steps in thought, pacing.

"It all started in the therapy room where I first met her. At the time I was looking for the perfect pair of peepers... Living peepers forever frozen in death. Naturally, even dead peepers would do, but they get cloudy. ...But it was not meant to be. After all, an average Joe's peepers change immediately depending on their emotional state."

He stops in front of her stand, nodding his head to himself, and glancing over at her quickly.

"Despair to hope, disappointment to malice... Well, it comes with my profession. At the time, I was in charge of counselling her. Looking back on it now... makes me so happy. Never have I seen such magnificent, such _fascinating_ peepers. Such blue, murky and tranquil lakes among darkness— enough to steal my heart."

Danny's gaze fill with fondness, whereas Ray's starting to feel cold... an iciness, emanating from within her chest. He walks around to her left side, resting a hand on the rail of her stand.

"Then... during one of my sessions with her, the most obvious thing occurred to me!" He declares, growing excited in his recollection. "Her peepers were the very ones I sought; alive and forever frozen in death! I mean, there's no arguing that her heart is just— just _odd._ A pitiful, helpless soul!"

"Daniel Dickens..." Gray says warningly.

"Is what I say not true?!" Danny reacts, throwing a hand out in her direction.

" _Daniel_..." The priest presses, but the doctor is too far gone into his words.

He laughs out, shaking his head.

"There's no way her soul could _ever be saved!_ "

"Danny..."

"I mean," Danny continues, pointedly ignoring the reverend. "It's because... It's because her soul..."

"...Stop it."

Ray doesn't know where her voice comes from. All this time she's barely managed to form words, or do much else other than listen in as the three had torn into her... berating her for her actions, calling her a witch, a sinner, and selfish. But as Danny cuts deeply into her, she can't help her cold demand.

 _...Stop. Don't say this._

Danny pauses, meeting her stony, frozen gaze. Slowly his smile fades, his pleasure disappearing. He tilts his head up to look at Gray, sobered and somehow giving off an aura of darkness.

"Her soul can't be saved," he finally says, serious. "I mean... because her soul consumes others. Without mercy... or remorse. A soul that buries and steals anything it can."

His finished statement slices down into her head, and she has to bite her tongue, even as dark emotions swirl around inside her. Memories she wants to forget, and the pain of being affected by his accusation, feels like she's been punched directly in the chest.

"Hmm? What's wrong, Rachel?" he asks her, noticing her odd expression and leaning in to get a closer look. "Oh, what lovely peepers you have... May I look at them?"

He examines her for a moment.

"Oh, and when we were reunited on B5, she was acting a bit strange. Even now, she seems off, though... Look! Now you're almost back to your old self!" He announces happily, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Everything will be alright as long as I'm here. Why don't we get through this together?"

"Daniel Dickens!"

Gray slams his holy book down against his stand, and Danny withdraws his hand to look up. He chuckles under his breath.

"...Sorry," he says unapologetically.

"Is that your testimony?" Gray asks dryly, and the doctor shrugs.

"...I could go into more detail about what makes her so wonderful, if you'd like?"

The priest shakes his head. "No need for that. I think I've heard more than enough. Not to mention, your testimony was rather condemning. Witness, you may now leave."

Danny nods and moves around to the now-silent Rachel, rubbing her shoulder for a moment and smiling down at her.

"...It'll be alright, Rachel," he murmurs. "You heard me, right? I said the _real_ you shouldn't have its soul stolen."

A flash, and Danny's normal colors fade in again, turning him from a bright sapphire blue to regular white lab coat, brown hair and pants. She watches him walk away, off the platform and into the shadows.

"Rachel Gardner."

She faces Gray once more, and she can see the weight of judgment in his eyes.

"Your sentence hast been determined," he tells her.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she swallows hard. Dread laces her every movement.

 _My sentence..._

"You, too, heard the claims by each of them. Danny's was especially telling; he is the most in tune with your background," he states thunderously. "'Twas certainly Danny who watched over you the longest. And 'twas Danny who bore witness to the truth and never refuted you. He is no doubt infatuated with you, sorceress!"

 _But, that isn't my fault! I didn't choose this, I didn't make him like this...!_

"...None of that is my fault," she repeats aloud. She looks at the reverend firmly. "Doctor Danny's just being selfish."

His expression grows hardened, and he points a finger in her direction.

"...Have you ever considered that _you_ are the selfish one, Rachel Gardner? Eddie said so in his testimony. About how you neglect everything besides your own ambitions. And then there's Cathy... What an unfortunate soul. On top of tricking her, to go as far as to entrance her in your spell! To see a woman of pride like her reduced to and empty shell of her former self: how _appalling._ "

He is stern as he announces to the entire room, his pupil-less eyes seeming to pierce through her very being. Nothing she can say now would change his mind, she can already tell, but she feels her desperation well up as he labels her.

"You..." he calls out, "... are a _witch._ "

"...No!" she cries.

"Am I wrong? You are unable to even refute a single claim made against thee!"

He throws out a hand, and the distant pipe organ music stops, leaving them in silence as he determines her fate.

"Well, witch! Let thee be cleansed!" he shouts out. "Now the witch shall be burned at the stake!"

There's a flash around her, and she feels flung upwards. Before she can realize what's going on, Ray is bound to the cross behind her, her wrists and legs left as if glued to the wood by invisible bonds.

The crackle of flames reaches her ears, and panic sets in. She yells out to Gray, trying to plead with him. "I am not a witch!"

" _Who_ would believe words spilling forth from the mouth of a witch?!" he demands.

"No!" She struggles, trying to pull free from the cross but unable to make a move to.

"Even after hearing the testimonies, you remain steadfast in your claim?" he asks her, merciless. "You murdered their hearts... Yes, you murdered their angelic hearts. You played them like violins and left them for dead... What a _barbaric_ feat. And now... you intend to pull the same stunt even with Isaac Foster, am I right? Yes, another _sacrifice_ for your selfish ambition!"

Each word he utters tears right through her. Using Zack for her own gain... killing Cathy and Eddie, deceiving them, and changing Danny... He truly believes she's the root of it all. And now... even she's starting to fear it may be true.

 _Nooo!_

"Stop it," she breathlessly begs. "...You're _wrong._ "

His features don't waver. He ignores her, raising his holy bible. A rush of wind rolls past them, whipping his coat and her hair around her face.

"Now—!"

Fire erupts from all around her. The flames emerge from the floor and eat away at the cross and her shoes, encasing the entire floor. They're burning hot and relentless, eager to lap at her helpless form. She cringes, trying to shrink away from it to no avail.

"It's hot..." she whimpers. "So hot..."

"Admit you are a witch!" Gray commands her. "Reveal thyself to us! And let the sacred flame sanctify thyself to God!"

Ray yanks at her arms and legs, desperate to become free. It hurts, and she's sweating bullets under the intense heat. If she doesn't hurry, she'll die here— unable to help Zack, or even herself.

"I'm not a witch..." she continues to protest lifelessly, unable to stop repeating the one thing she's holding onto. "Besides, nothing like that is written in the Bible!"

"But of course, Rachel Gardner."

Ray's head whips up to stare straight into Gray's milky white eyes. He has a tight-lipped smile resting over his face, as if he's about to hammer home the final nail in her coffin.

"That's because your so-called 'God' doesn't _exist_."

Fear and despair well up within her, and she cries out, not understanding how he could utter such a thing.

"But you've been using the name of God this whole time!" she points out in bewilderment.

"Yes, because I am referring to _my_ God," he corrects. She gapes at him.

"...What?"

Gray throws out his arms, looking upwards toward the black ceiling above. "I am a servant of God. You might call me the 'God' of this place."

"So... you mean that _you're_ God?" she squeaks out, horrified.

"Why yes," he agrees, glad she's caught on. "Here, _I_ am the closest being to God."

What he's telling her doesn't fit right with what she knows, with what she's believed in all this time. She knows he's wrong— he _can't_ be right. She knows that he can't be the true God.

Her face grows darker. "...I don't believe you. I don't believe you— I _won't_ believe you!"

"A faithful heart is the significance of God's existence, my poor, _dear_ Rachel," Gray's tone drips with venom. "You never had that from the start."

With a wave of his hand and the weight of his words on her shoulders, he whisks the courtroom away— and Ray is left in the midst of a black hole filled with fire that licks at her soles and crawls slowly up to her, painfully lapping at her hands and legs. The heat is intense, but her heart is in so many shambles that she can hardly feel it. The despair eats at her. Her eyes are wide as she stares lifelessly at the floor, unable to breathe, unable to think. She closes them, left in the dark of her thoughts as death approaches.

This... can't be true. It can't be real.

 _It can't be! It simply can't be...!_

 _God doesn't exist...? How..._

 _That just can't be— I won't accept it. I_ _can't_ _accept it..._

 _That preacher insisted that he is God. But that can't be... He's_ _wrong_ _..._

 _I... don't wish to be killed by that God. But..._

 _...'My God' doesn't exist._

She's engulfed in a sea of black shadows that cloud her heart. Her struggle to get away from the fire, from the thoughts that attack her, ceases. Cathy's laughter enters her head, and Eddie's accusations. Danny's claims swirl around, repeating over and over.

 _"Her soul can't be saved."_

 _"You're just playthings!"_

 _"Have you ever considered that you are the selfish one?"_

 _"Because her soul consumes others. Without mercy... without remorse."_

 _"You're so-called 'God' doesn't exist."_

 _Zack... Zack..._

Before she's realized, she's whispering his name, the name of the boy she cares so much about. The one she wants to kill her, the one she wants to save. His name echoes on the tip of her tongue, in the back of her mind.

 _But... I want Zack to kill me!_

Those words feel like almost a relief, offering the tiniest bit of comfort. In fact, it almost feels as if they're cold enough to staunch the ferocity of the flames.

 _It's... so cold..._

 _It's so hot... yet..._

Something cold is... in her hands?

Something icy is wrapped in her fingers. It's hard and long, unyielding as she squeezes it.

 _This... What's this...?_

 _Ah... what was it again...?_

It hurts her head trying to remember what it is. She should know— it holds so much meaning for her; it's so important to her.

 _Something... something precious to me..._

 _Something that I broke, and ruined... yet protected me this whole time._

 _Wait! I'll try to remember...!_

It's then that she recalls it. It hits her with the strength of a freight train, and her eyes fly open to see it floating in front of her, spinning wildly before her.

A rusty, chipped, melted blade. It slashes at her arms and legs, and she crumples off the cross, freed from the bonds she couldn't see. The knife falls as well, slamming blade first into the ground.

 _...Ah...?_

 _Zack's... knife...?_

Ray pulls herself to her knees, wincing at the pain of the cuts, bruises and burns. She stares at it jutting out from the floor, then gets to her feet. The flames are all around them, but suddenly she realizes that the judge's stand is back, right over the knife.

 _That knife... I have to get to it._

Ray pushes past the fire to reach it, realizing that she no longer feels as affected by the flames as before.

Reaching out, she takes hold of the handle of the blade, her eyes widening.

 _It's cold..._

She pulls it out of the ground, running her palm along the blade in awe— and then wincing as it cut a thin line along her hand.

 _It hurts... It's chipped, yet cuts so well..._

 _...Aaah..._

It's then that she realizes something, and a strange, soft smile settles over her lips. She grips the knife tightly in her hand, balling her bleeding hand into a fist.

 _Well now... 'My God' is here after all._

Wielding the blade, she whirls around, and she makes contact. The moment she does, the fire vanishes from around her, and the room changes. The darkness melts away to reveal the cathedral, with Gray standing nearby. His hand is pressed to his stomach, where she's left a shallow, jagged cut across his abdomen. Blood lightly seeps through his fingers.

"... _Ugh,_ " he groans, staring at her in confusion. "How have you awoken?!"

Ray's cool, collected— feeling more at peace than she ever had. Her God does truly exist and she feels stronger, knowing exactly what it is she believes in.

"The strange things I've seen on this floor were all illusions," she states. "It's what you've shown to my heart."

She takes a deep breath. "...My God has opened my eyes."

Gray grimaces, his thin lips stretching into a displeased frown.

"Then, I wasn't able to purge the witch within thee," he growls.

"I'm not a witch," she presses, completely certain in her words this time. "I've not made any covenants. There was an oath." A light smile flickers across her face. "It was an oath from my God."

"I see... the witch in you has chosen to perceive it that way," he notes irritably. "Even if you are mistaken, _even_ if what you say is a fabrication of lies, you do not care, it seems."

"...None of that matters," she murmurs.

She rushes forward, and the blade of her knife presses into the throat of the reverend without wavering this time. She holds it still in her hands, steady and firm, as she glares up at him with determination. The man holds up his hands, not daring to swallow for fear she'll cut right through.

"Hurry and give me that medicine," she tells him.

He looks reluctant to do anything she asks, but when she doesn't flinch from him, he looks down his nose at her and sighs.

"Oh, pitiful witch who does not love anything but thyself... Follow me."

He leads her to a bookshelf off on one side of the room. He glances at her, still holding the knife threateningly, and then pulls on a certain book. With a loud sound, the bookshelf slides over, revealing a hidden doorway.

"'Tis further in the back," he says.

She jerks the knife toward the entry. "After you."

His eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Well, Zack's asleep, and I don't know what you'll do," she explains.

"...I see."

He walks in, and she trails just behind, keeping the knife pointed at his back should he try anything. The back hall leads to a room with colorful painted glass, and a shelf. He stops in front of it, frowning.

"There is medicine on hither shelf," he tells her.

Ray hurries to the shelf. it's lined with antiseptics, hemostatics, and the like. A rush of relief floods her body along with a nagging thought that he might've had some of it before Danny came along.

She grabs a few things to treat the wound on Zack's torso and arm, and lets out a short breath.

"This... should definitely make him feel better," she mumbles, placing them in her purse. "I'll go back to Zack."

Ray turns around, but she stops in front of Gray. Lowering her knife, she bows her head.

"...Thank you. I'm going back to Zack."

She starts to walk back, but he calls out to her.

"Wait! You do not intend to kill me?"

Her brows furrow. "...Why would I?"

"You now believe in a new God, dost thou not?" he inquires. "The existence of multiple gods will cause nothing but trouble. Besides— you are not one to be merciful."

She tilts her head. "Do you stand in my way? If not, then there is no need for me to do so... I mean, I have no use for you."

Gray's grave expression seems frozen on his face as he processes her words. Then a small smile curves his thin mouth.

"...I see," he says, seeming to relax a bit. "Then I shall offer you one last piece of advice. The being known as God despises liars and the impure. That is, if your so-called God should actually exist. Rachel Gardner..."

He stares her down.

"...It will all catch up with you soon."

Ray gazes at him for a moment. Then she turns on her heel, and without another word, walks out, leaving the priest alone in the small room.

Tucking her purse under her arm and licking her dry lips, she hurries out of the cathedral, already making a beeline for Zack.

 _I got the medicine, it's time to go back._

 **.x.X.x.**

He's still lying in the same place as before, and Ray kneels at his side immediately, checking to make sure he's alright. His chest rises, a good sign at the very least.

"Zack...?" she calls out.

 _Good... he's just asleep. The least I can do is apply the medicine first._

Ray gets out the medicines she needs, frowning down at the bottle in her had. When she reads the direction, she draws in a sharp breath.

 _...I guess this is the kind applied externally...?_ She looks over his open wounds. _His wounds are serious, but the bleeding's mostly stopped._

 _Then, I just apply it, and bandage him..._

Ray cautiously looks over the skin that peeks out between the bandages, reaching over to pull away a little bit of them to see better and to begin applying the medicine. Underneath the stained gauze, browned, mottled skin is evident.

 _...The burn scars... were originally there..._

"...Huh?"

"Zack!" she says, as his eyes slowly open to look her way. "Are you awake?"

"...What the hell you doin'..." he mumbles, coming back to his senses a bit.

"I brought some medicine, so I was applying it to you," she tells him.

He licks his lips dryly, clearing his throat. "...So you made it back alright?"

A little proudly, she says, "...Yep."

He doesn't look as pleased, however. He turns his head, eying her critically.

"...'Yep'?" he repeats skeptically. "You're all beat up... Was Danny there? How'd you get the medicine?"

Ray glances down at herself. Now that he says something, she does realize that she has a few cuts and bruises all over her arms and legs that she hadn't seen before. She'd been so set on coming back to Zack with medicine, that she'd completely ignored her own injuries. They do ache and sting, but she pushes them from her mind for the moment.

"Doctor Danny wasn't there," she says, shaking her head and continuing to rub the medicine over the wound. "But I got the medicine from the priest on this floor."

"...Oh, that guy," Zack says, a flicker of recognition on his face.

He pulls himself off the ground, sitting against the wall, and she protests quickly. "Ah! Hold still!"

"Ack," he says, taking a look at his injuries. "My wounds will probably open back up like this."

"I'll stitch you up," she says, shaking her head. "I'm not half bad at sewing."

He grows a little distant and standoffish, his face scrunching up. "...Back off. I'll do it myself."

She blinks. She hadn't though him to type to be good at sewing, but... "Are you good at sewing too, Zack?"

He gapes at her like she's sprouted two heads, and she reaffirms her initial thought.

"...I knew it. I'll take care of it. And I want to stitch up your stomach."

Zack looks like he wants to protest like before, but after a moment, he settles back and looks away. "...Fine. Whatever. Don't bitch to me if it gets gross."

His permission to work on him leaves her feeling lighter somehow. Happy to be useful, she moves up to his side, leaning in close over him so she can work properly.

"Wait here, I'll cut the thread," she says, getting out her spool and needles.

Suddenly he grabs at her wrist, holding up her hand for him to see.

"...Yer hands are all beat up?!" he says, clearly not realizing before to what extent she'd injured herself.

"Yeah..." she says, shrugging her shoulders. "But it's alright. It doesn't hurt."

He lets go of her, still seeming concerned, but he just observes her as she prepares to stitch him up. She reaches over and begins cleaning up his wound a bit more, unwrapping the burnt skin with tender fingers.

"...Man, you're some piece of work," he mumbles. "Look at you all calm, touchin' my fucked up stomach. Kudos... for gettin' the medicine and comin' back alive in a weak state. But still... You don't gotta do this too."

She listens to him talk as she preps, and she feels the way his heartbeat picks up under her hands.

"Hey, Ray..." he asks softly. "Why are you doin' this for me?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she blinks up at him.

"Hey, can I use your knife to cut the thread? This knife cuts like a dream."

"Hey!" Zack takes hold of her arm again, demanding her attention. "Quit playin' dumb and answer me!"

Ray stares into his multi-colored eyes. This close, she feels her own heartbeat begin to flutter in her chest. Only inches from him, he gazes back at her intensely, his grip barely loosening.

"... _Answer_ me..." he mumbles, quieter.

 _This must be... what it feels like to be in your presence... The answer to this feeling must be because of who you are._

"...After all," she replies calmly, "Zack, you're... My 'God'."

His mouth opens and closes again. His eyes grow wide with confusion, her words leaving him puzzled and bewildered. He can only look at her, not understanding.

Then he releases her, his trance broken, and his gaze changes to somewhere on the other side of the room.

"Wha- What kinda shit are you talkin' about?" he demands, before noticing something else. She follows his look, to the knife held in her hand.

"Hey, my knife..." he says, narrowing his eyes.

"Ahh, it's a bit chipped," she says regretfully. "I'm really sorry about that."

"Huh?!" He gives her an odd look. "What the hell's wrong with you? ...But..." He lightly glances off elsewhere again. "...I guess it's okay."

"...Still, this knife is razor sharp and really helped me out," she tells him proudly, smiling a little. "I'm sorry. I really appreciate it though."

He takes one look at her face before mumbling something under his breath, seeming almost flustered. She, however, is on a mission. With her thread and needle ready, and puts the knife down.

"It's about time I stitch up those wounds of yours," she says. "Hold still for a second, Zack."

Ray begins pulling the needle through his wound. His body immediately tenses up, and he cries out in pain.

"Ow...!"

Trying not to let his movements ruin her perfect needlework, She sets to working, pulling together his skin. He struggles a bit as she makes quick, painful work of the injury. She even adjusts him down to the floor so she can better work on his stomach.

"Hey! Stop it! _Shiiiit!_ That hurts, you dumbfuck!"

Ray blinks at him, lying sprawled out on the ground under her. She was so busy working that she entirely forgot that he might feel what she was doing, especially after he'd endured so much.

"...Does it hurt?" she asks in surprise.

"Hell _yes_ it does!" he affirms amidst curses.

"I figured you wouldn't feel a thing," she says, and he bops her on the head.

"Man, you're as dumb as they come! I'm not some pain-loving masochist! For fuck's sake..."

She feels a little bad about it, but then he pipes up.

"...Your God commands you to do a good job!"

Ray stares at him in shock, noting that he's looking at her meaningfully, before quickly nodding her head with newfound determination.

"...You got it!"

She gets back to work, but after a few moments, she speaks again.

"...Hey, Zack."

"What is it now?" He groans.

Her fingers ghost along the exposed scars on his torso. Now that the bandages aren't covering them anymore, she can see them rather well. They truly are frightening, made of scarring, lumped up tissue, but at the same time, they're sad... She can hardly believe something like this had happened to him.

"Do these burns... not hurt?" she asks quietly.

He blinks at her, not expecting the question. "Huh? ...Nah, not really. Not anymore, they don't."

"Oh... okay." She withdraws her hands. "I'll get back to stitching, then."

He's quiet for a few moments.

"...When you're done, let's head out right away," he says, his eyes scanning her frame.

"Okay," she agrees easily.

"Oh," he also adds, "and do something about your own wounds."

She raises a brow. For him to tell her to take care of herself... It's a bit of a first like this. "...What?"

"Not only yer hands, but yer legs could use some attention, too," he replies, making a sweeping gesture at her body. "If you can't run or something when we gotta move fast, then we're fucked..."

"...Alright," she relents. "I'll borrow some of your bandages if you have any to spare."

He nods his head. "...That works."

Zack closes his eyes, and she quickly finishes up, rewrapping him in bandages right after and then doing as he asked, fixing herself up too with the leftover gauze. Once they're both able to walk and get going, they straighten up. Zack's a little wobbly on his feet, but she makes sure to be close in case she needs to help him at all, even as he tries to wave her off.

 _Okay... what's the plan?_ She ponders their options, tapping her fingers against her chin. _Still haven't found the elevator that takes us up to the next floor... Plus we gotta pass through the area where the snakes are to get back to the elevator that takes us down..._

 _Wait! I suppose we haven't checked out the back room where Zack's medicine was._

She tells him her idea, and he agrees to go along with it. Together they head back through to the cathedral. When they enter, the music of the pipe organ is playing once again, but Gray is nowhere to be seen.

"What a huge goddamned church," Zack says aloud, looking all around. "Hey, you know that preacher you talked about— where is he?"

"...I don't know," she answers.

"You don't know," he scoffs a little, placing a hand on his hip. "I'm surprised he gave you the medicine."

"It wasn't easy..." she says quietly, recollections of that awful time on trial flooding her head. he watches the way ehr face falls, and he murmurs to himself.

"...Didn't think so."

"But, that man," she says, something else coming to mind. "I think he may a soft spot for you, Zack."

Immediately after she says it, Zack pretends to make a retching noise, covering his mouth in his hand.

"Please spare me the throw up!" she pleads, backing away from him.

"Shut it!" he says, removing his hand and waving it quickly. "Then quit sayin' gross shit!"

With nothing else holding them to the cathedral, and Gray vanished somewhere, they head into the back room the medicine had been in. Gray had barred her from going much further into the room, but with him gone, she can see why— the elevator sits in the back, waiting for them.

Ray pulls the lever off to the side, and the elevator triggers, whirring to life and opening up for them.

"So next is B1, eh...?" she says softly.

"Alright, let's move," Zack says, rolling his shoulders. He looks much livelier than before, and he hurries onto the elevator without her. She, however, feels hesitation before going on— a sense of strong, undeniable dread.

"Ah, wait..." she calls.

She hopes in with him, and the doors clang closed behind them. Inside, she kneels on the floor, waiting for the lift to stop. Something else keeps coming to her mind... the sight of that scarred skin she'd taken care of.

"...Hey, Zack. Mind if I ask you something?" she inquires.

"Can you ask me something? Just spit it out already!" he demands, shrugging.

She bites her cheek. "Okay. What's.. the story with your burns?"

Zack falls silent a moment, and she tenses up, wondering if she went too far.

"...What would you gain from knowin' that?" he wonders cautiously.

"...Nothing in particular," she responds, shaking her head. "I was just curious about you, is all."

Her statement leaves him floundering, before he throws a hand up in a nonchalant gesture.

"...If you're expectin' a grippin' tale, then look elsewhere," he grumbles.

"Nah," she answers quickly. "I'm not expecting some sort of epic story or anything."

Zack studies her for a moment, before a somewhat bitter smile flashes over his face.

"...When I was a kid, some guy at my house set me on fire."

She looks at him in shock.

"...Some guy... set you on fire...?"

"Well, the whole thing's kinda vague in my mind... He was prolly a man who came to see the woman that gave birth to me," he says flippantly. "All I can really remember about him is biting him and taking a chunk of his flesh— that's it."

Ray's quiet, but Zack laughs to himself, pumping his fist in his own small victory.

"That asshole was bent on ending my life, but luckily I was a resilient little bastard! Maybe he shit his pants...? In the end, that woman wrapped me in cloth. Then she threw some money at a shitty home and left me there."

Just thinking about someone doing something so cruel to Zack makes Ray's heart ache. She wonders what might've happened if that man hadn't done something so awful, or if his mother hadn't abandoned him.

There's nothing she can truly say to express much of how she feels about it, but internally she's happy he decided to share it with her. "...I see."

'That's pretty much it," he declares. "You happy now?"

She nods. "...Yeah."

He reels in surprise. "What the fuck? You _liked_ it?"

Ray nods her head no. "No, not really."

He narrows his eyes, puzzled. "...Huuuh?"

"But..." she continues. "I did learn about your burns, so I'm happy. I dunno why, but... I just wanted to know about you, Zack. So, I'm glad I asked..."

She's not looking his way, but she can tell he's absolutely baffled. Maybe no one had ever asked about his past before, or his burns.

"Are you shittin' me...?" he comments in confusion.

"Nope."

"...Really?" he asks, in a calmer tone this time.

"...Yeah."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him toy with his bangs, glancing away.

"...Then, I'm glad you know."

Something about it feels... sweet, somehow, and she can't help the smile that forms. "...Yeah."

Then she pauses, opening her mouth. "Ah, one more thing..."

"You're not done yet?" he says.

This question is the hardest of all to say.

"Do you... still want to escape this place?"

Her query barely echoes through the elevator before he bursts out in surprise.

"Huuuh? What the hell do _you_ think? You think I'd be risking my life like this if I didn't?!"

The answer is exactly what she expects, even if for some reason, it makes her heart ache in her chest. In fact, her entire body aches... and her head is starting to hurt.

"I see. Nevermind then."

"What a screwy bitch," he responds, before making a dramatic gesture, drawing her attention. "I'm gonna put this out there for you— not a _single_ word comin' outta my mouth's a lie!"

That word.

It makes the pounding in her head louder. Her figure trembles underneath the weight of that single word. One syllable, with so much power.

Lies... or a single lie. A simple lie can tear apart someone so easily...

Nothing he says is lies. But, she... Can she say the same?

Those images are back. Memories, flashes— re-lighting in her head, but this time, she can remember most of it. It hits her hard, and she's left sitting in silence, remembering it all. Remembering that day.

...The reason, why she's here in this place.

"...Zack, I, uh..." Her tongue doesn't want to function. Nothing wants to work properly right now, and she's struggling to get out words. "To be honest, I..."

"What?" he presses, but she can't seem to say anything. The words are caught up inside her, tangled in her own web, and she can't say it.

 _This... I have to say something. I should tell him. Zack has always been so honest. But,..._

"Come on, spit it out!" he demands.

She opens her mouth. _I can... I can tell him...! I need to!_

"...I..."

 _Or... shouldn't I? Is it wrong? Will I regret it?_

The fear overwhelms her easily, erasing her willpower. Backing down, she falls quiet. "...Nevermind."

"Whaaaaa?!" Zack says, annoyed. "What the hell is that?!"

"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I knew what I wanted to say, but... it sort of slipped my mind..."

The tiny lie rolls easily off her tongue, but tastes sour and bitter. He, however, doesn't notice.

"Get yourself together!" he urges her. "There's still one floor to go! Drop the crack pipe!"

He moves over and bops her on the head hard, and she squeaks. Rubbing the top of her scalp, she glances up at him, where he stands with his arms crossed and grumbling under his breath.

 _Zack..._

Even though she can't pull herself together enough to tell him, she knows it's important. She knows that she needs to, but the thought of how he might react scares her.

The elevator stops suddenly, too quickly for her liking. The realization that they're at B1 has barely registered before Zack is heading for the door.

"Alright!" he says triumphantly, gripping his scythe tight in hand. "Just a little further and we're outta here! Let's go!"

"...Okay," she nods.

He walks out, and she stares after him. Her mouth feels dry and coarse, and she feels how much her chest aches. It hasn't felt like this since... since that day.

 _...I can't. I just can't tell him..._

 _I mean... Zack absolutely abhors liars... and God despises the impure. If he should ever find out that I've been hiding my sinful past all this time..._

 _...He'll hate me for sure._

The sadness of such an outcome is too much to bear. She can never bring herself to risk him hating her. He means too much to her now.

 _I can no longer tell Zack... the truth._

That single admittance tears her up inside, and she slowly follows him out of the elevator, her steps leaden.

The moment she enters the next floor, however, a large lump sticks in her throat. At that moment, she feels the most intense kind of panic— dread to fill her body to overflowing.

 _This...!_

The floor is clean, wood paneling. A staircase is off to the right leading upward, and a short hall heads further into the floor from the landing. As she stands there staring at the her surroundings like she's seen a ghost, Zack rubs the back of his head, puzzled.

"What's this place? The inside of a house...?" His gaze filters down, and he notices the crimson stains on the wood leading forward. "Look at the blood trails...?"

Ray feels her heart stopping and starting, over and over, like the ticking of a clock's seconds. She watches Zack take steps forward, and suddenly she can't breathe. Her gaze fills with white and red, with fear and horror.

 _"The being known as God despises the liars and the impure."_

 _Ahh... Oh no..._

She knows. She knows what lies ahead. She knows she knows she _knows._

 _It was here._

 _I remember now. I remember it all. This is where I was..._

"It leads this way...?" Zack says, starting to follow where the trail goes, and she reaches out, knowing that this can't be.

This is all wrong. This is bad. This is... She _can't breathe._

A clock is ticking, somewhere in the house, but it's pounding in her head. Each tick of the hand, every single second moving by like molasses. Ray's entire body winds up in tension.

"Wait, Zack..." she can barely manage. "Wait."

He ignores her, moving to the entry. Images remind her of what awaits, and she rushes forth, trying to grab him, trying to _stop him before it's too late._

"No, I beg you! Don't go!"

She doesn't recognize her own voice. She doesn't recognize the person crying out for him to halt, the person that knows what lies in the next room for them to find.

 _"Who art thou? An angel? A sacrifice? Or perhaps... a demon?"_

Who is she? _What_ is she?!

She... is...

" _Don't look in that room!_ "

* * *

A/N: Lightly edited.

Hey guys, have this absolutely monster chapter. I uh, did not intend for it to be this long this time, but... there was more to the floor than I remembered, and before I knew it, I was in a rush to finish by today. Still, I really loved writing this— and now we're entering the final episode of the game. This is where everything's going down. I hope y'all are ready. Thank you for staying with me up to this point! I get teary thinking that the end is coming up so fast.

Thanks for reading, I'll see you next update!

~Disclaimer~ I love twists and know the crushing weight of your past, but I own nothing more.


	14. Her Sorrowful Lullaby

" _Wait, Zack. Don't go that way!"_

 _Oh God... Oh God... Think..._ _Think!_

 _It's too late. I can't do anything. I have to stop him, he can't see what's ahead, he can't he can't he_ _can't_ _—_

 _"Hey, Ray! What're you doin'?!"_

 _Her eyes darken. Her bangs fall in front of her face, and she can feel every bit of energy in her body sap away._

 _It's too late._

 _All she can do now... is follow after, and watch everything crumble._

 **.x.X.x.**

"This place totally looks like the inside of a house... What's goin' on?"

Zack's curious eyes flash across every inch of the floor he can swallow. After the hellish circumstances of the past five floors, this seems... too goddamned normal. One footstep out of the elevator gave him a weird vibe, just by how everything looks so oddly pristine— like it was all fake somehow, or like he'd walked into a real-life dollhouse. It gives him the creeps.

Still, compared to the rest, this feels even more foreboding than the last few. Each floor is modelled after the master's preferences as far as he knows; who the hell asked for a regular apartment or something in here? Not to mention, though he knew minor details about the other masters, whoever was supposed to be up here is a total blank for him. He's on high alert for any funny business.

 _What kind of fucked up person lives in here, anyway?_

He'd stepped into what seems to be a darkened living room, and he can barely follow what's where around him. There's some moonlight pouring into the room from a window, but it feels artificial somehow. He tries a nearby lamp, but the lights refuse to turn on.

 _Great. Just dandy. Just what I need, another fucking Eddie on my hands._

Noting that Ray's gone quiet somewhere behind him, he glances back at her. Her expression immediately tells him something is off, and he places a hand on his hip, trying not to wince at the pain in his gut.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks. "You don't look so hot."

She doesn't answer. Her blue eyes are even less lively than before somehow, if that's even possible at this point. It worries him how ghostly pale she's become— could it be cause of her injuries or something?

"You worn out...?"

Still nothing, and he resigns himself to her creepy silence for now. He can focus more on her odd behavior later, once they get a feel for whoever lives in this place. It does bother at him, nagging at the back of his mind, and it pisses him off.

 _What's gotten into her lately? She's been actin' so strange._

Ever since B2, with that priest she ran into, Ray hasn't been the same. Something changed that he doesn't know about. Not to mention her spouting that he's her _God_ or whatever.

He wants part of whatever drugs _she's_ taking, that's for sure.

Zack moves further into the room, and notices bunches of colorful arrangements along the floor toward the farthest half. As he steps over them to examine them, reaching down to pluck at the head of it, he realizes they're flowers; _fake_ flowers at that, yet they smell just like fully bloomed blossoms.

 _What's the deal with these flowers? Not to mention they're not even real... Fakes, but smell just like the real thing._

Getting out of the mass of plastic flowers, he glances toward the other side of the room. A cough sits there with something on it taking up most the space, and the big window in the back reveals a full moon.

 _A moon? Hey... isn't this still the basement?_ He puzzles over it a moment, before recognizing the electronic glow of the edges and moon's shape. _Ah, it's a fake on that glows. What the hell is up with this place?_

 _Fake flowers, fake moon, and this dollhouse-like floor... what kind of twisted nutjob is behind this?_

Something squishes under his feet. There's a room-wide rug across the wooden floor, soft under his shoes— but this part feels sticky, and sounds wrong when he walks over it.

Then his eyes filter down, and he realizes that it's because this entire section is covered in blood— following along with his registry of the object lying on the couch.

It's lying in a puddle of its own blood; or rather, _they_ are. A man and woman, facing the room with sewn shut eyes. He's only just realizing there's a nasty smell mixing with the false artificial scent of the flowers. The man has short brown hair, and a gunshot wound to his head and over his chest, where the blonde woman is covered in multiple stab wounds.

But the part that disturbs him the most and causes him to take a slow step back, is realizing that they're sewn to one another. Their arms are tied together by a thick thread, down their torsos and legs. Their limbs have been removed, stuffed, and then replaced in specific order, to make them appear to be cuddling on the couch, and their mouths are pinned into permanently affixed smiles. He starts to reach out, to feel if it's actually real.

 _It's... all sewed together. Is this some kinda doll...?_

"Zack."

He turns to see Ray walking toward him slowly, approaching from the shadows around them.

"Stop it, Zack," she tells him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Anything could happen here, so don't go around just blindly touching stuff!"

He blinks at her. He's never heard her directly command him like that, or with such force either. "...Huh?"

Just for that, he wants to know why— and it spurs his rebellious side, just a bit. He faces away from her, looking back at the two people joined together on the couch. Without responding, he edges closer to them, and she pipes in again a bit more urgently.

"Zack. _Stop_ it, Zack."

He feels her grip onto his sleeve, and he looks back at her to see that dark, stark face again, like she's just been through a ghostly experience or something. He pulls his arm away from her.

 _Here we go again, with the weird behavior. What the hell is up with her?_

"...You've been actin' all weird lately," he points out. "What're you losin' your shit over over this kinda stuff _now_ for?"

Just to counter her request, he reaches out as if to prove that there's nothing to be concerned about— and his fingers dip into the arm of the woman's figure. It's cold and squishes under his movement, far too soft and pliable for a stuffed doll yet hard underneath. His disturbance of the nasty creation causes a gross smell to waft up to his nose, and he coughs, disgusted and a little horrified as he realizes what it really is.

He's seen nasty, psychotic shit before now, but this is one of his top ten creepiest.

" _Gah?!_ " he outbursts, covering his nose. "What the hell. It's a... _stiff_... Fuckin' gross."

Ray, who had stood back in fear, suddenly rushes back to his side, grabbing his arm again in tight fingers.

"Zack! Hey!" All of a sudden, she's right in his face. This isn't like the time he'd been half-dazed on B2, where the tension between them could've been cut by his knife and the vibes felt unfamiliar and different. She forces herself up to him this time, urgent and pleading, even as he tears himself away from her and backs up, meeting his every step with her own.

"Please, oh please...! I beg of you, hurry up and kill me!"

"...Hey!" he says, unable to take this sudden change. He's become used to her constant reminders for him to kill her, but at least she seemed patient, then. Now it's like she's in some kinda panic, blue eyes wide with terror and desperation. "Where the hell did that come from?!"

"Please... _hurry_...!" she continues loudly, and he shoves her back, rising over her intimidation and gesturing with his scythe.

"What're you blabbin' about?! Why the hell would I kill you here?! We're not even outside yet- plus that's _not_ the look on your face I wanna see when I do it!" he says, trying to work past his own sudden doubts and confusion.

 _Why is she so hellbent all of a sudden like this?_

"...But..."

As she's about to plead her case again, her gaze falls to the floor. Her words pause, and she takes a step to the side. He follows to the object that's caught her eye, and she takes in a sharp breath.

"This book..." she whispers, eyes wide as dinner plates, noting the thick black-covered book lying partially in the bloody mess. "I remember... it's a Bible."

Without any warning, Ray grabs at her head, hands fisting into the long blonde strands as if to stop something internally. Zack is at a loss as he watches her begin to scream.

" _Please Zack_!" The girl turns on him. Her eyes have gone deep sapphire, an even darker, almost opaque black now.

" _Hurry and kill me! Before you know too much!_ "

 _Know too much? What the hell is she talking about now?_

His throat has closed with shock, and he watches her grow weaker, her hands falling limp to her sides. Ray swallows visibly in front of him, her words dropping to a whisper.

"...Please... As I am now... Kill me. Please...!"

She starts to back away. He's so bewildered by her actions that he almost wants to stop her, to shake some sense into her, but there's something in her eyes that brings the tiniest sliver of fear into his own chest.

"... _If you're my God!"_ she finishes— before her eyes roll back.

Ray's knees hit the carpet, but he finally regains his ability to function and drops down in time to catch her before she faceplants into the murky, black blood stains. Her form is lifeless in his arms, and he can feel how fast he's freaking out internally. Even he can tell this isn't like her. Something's wrong.

" _Hey...!"_ He moves her quickly, pushing her back to look at her face. She's so pale, like a porcelain doll under his bandaged, rough hands. "Stop screwin' around and get ahold of yerself!"

Ray doesn't respond, and he realizes that she's fully lost consciousness. His head swirls with unnecessary thoughts, and he stares at her for a moment, trying to puzzle out a reason as to why she'd act like that.

 _Her face is ghost white. No— damn, it's blue._

 _Ray...?_

He doesn't waste a moment. Zack scoops her up into his arms, before glancing at the couch.

 _I'll put her over there. I just have to get that nasty thing off that's taking up space first._

After some maneuvering, he has the crumpled, decaying bodies tossed to one side off the couch, and Ray lying still there instead, arms by her sides and her bag half hanging unceremoniously off the edge. The seat is still bloody, but there's little he can do about that. It's better than nothing, anyways.

He leans over her, watching her quiet breathing for a few moments.

 _What the hell...? Why'd she go and collapse on me all of a sudden? Maybe she's exhausted? Don't blame her..._

She's gone through as much hell as he has. Yeah, he's sporting a fantastic gash to the stomach and a bullet hole in his arm, but he knows that preacher probably put her through the ringer mentally. Maybe she's just breaking under the stress of everything? She is just a kid, after all.

 _And she's been actin' so weird and panicky... Damn it._ _Damn_ _it!_ His fist hits the couch, near her head but not close enough to harm her, and he glares down at her. His inner self is battling another side, and it's starting to really piss him off about now.

 _She just_ _now_ _gets a despair-filled look on her face... ugh._

He remembers how much he wanted to see it. To see that same expression she'd made when they first met, when he trampled that stupid bird and she ran from him. A game of cat and mouse, of predator and prey. Hell, he's been waiting for it ever since they joined up, just so he could have the satisfaction of it coming from her when he kills her. It was on the same level as... well, as something else he'd made her do, but she sucked at both of them til now.

But, now... It's not right. Seeing how scared and fragile she was at that time wasn't what he wanted.

His fingers unball from a fist to toy with a stray lock of her blonde hair, twisting the strands between his fingertips. He can't feel it well thanks to the gauze around his hands, but he imagines it's as soft as it looks.

 _...It's no fun with her makin' that face at me now..._

Her words keep resounding in his head, like a song on loop. Her calling him 'God' as easily as if it can't be disputed.

 _...'My God', huh? So she's talkin' 'bout me..._

 _...Aah, what's goin'_ _on_ _here?_

He really had taken it as a joke at first, but the way she'd cried it out to him earlier seemed far too serious and real to be just the effects of some kind of hallucination. Like she firmly, truly believes it somehow. But that can't be.

 _...The whole thing sickens me._

The rustle of papers makes him snap from his reverie. He looks down to see her purse has accidentally opened up, and some papers have slipped to the floor.

 _Huh? What's this? Did it fall outta Ray's bag...?_

Out of curiosity he picks them up, but after a moment of staring blankly at the scribbles and wiggly lines, he groans in frustration.

 _Aahh, I can't read it...!_

Though he can't make out a lick of whatever the hell's typed out on them, he does recognize the pictures left in black and white.

 _There are photos on 'em. Which means... this one is mine,_ he flips between the two sheafs, _and the other is Ray's?_

He tries again to look at the writing and such, and something else pops out at him from the midst of the gibberish. The numbers, which he does know (to an extent), matching up with his birthday and age.

 _...These numbers do make sense, though. But still... Damn, we're makin' annoying faces._ he flips his own photo off, disgusted. If he didn't know better, he wouldn't recognize himself— but he knows Ray's face anywhere. It bothers him that someone had access to his image, but at this point it doesn't really matter.

 _Thud._

Zack pauses, lowering the papers to scan the surroundings. He knows that wasn't part of his imagination; he heard something unnatural just now.

 _...What's that sound?_

The sound persists, steady like footfalls, and he frowns, growing tense.

 _...Come to think of it, I never_ _did_ _find out where that bastard Danny ran off to._

 _That sound... It's comin' from where I came in._

It could be Danny, the master of the floor, or just a weightlifting mouse for all he knows, but it sounds human-made. He grabs hold of his scythe, pulling him to his full height and preparing to strike the first thing that moves. With Ray out of commission, he's got to make sure nothing can touch her.

 _I'm gonna check it out._

Approaching the door they'd came through, he hears the noise much louder now, a rhythmic tap against the wood. He prepares his scythe, and then yanks open the door, stepping forward to face whoever might be trying to toy with them.

...Only to be faced with the empty front hall.

 _What the...?_

Something hits his toe. Zack looks down to see a small remote car reversing and then moving forward, bumping into him as if that's all it's capable of. His face contorts in confusion.

 _Huh? Hey, so this toy is what was makin' the sound?_

With frustration, he whips out his scythe and slashes apart the toy. It rips into mechanical pieces that fly off in every direction, the biggest remnant falling lifelessly in front of him.

"Dammit," he swears, glaring down at it. "Misleading me with stupid shit when I'm all on edge..."

Without warning, something slams into Zack from behind, a driving force that makes him stumble out of the doorway and nearly trip over the massacred toy. He barely has time to catch himself before the door shuts and locks behind him, and someone laughs on the other side.

"It worked! I'm rid of him!"

The chuckling, smug tones... Zack's eyes go wide as he recognizes the voice, and hatred begins to build up in his chest, along with anger.

 _...That fucker Danny!_

"Now, now. Don't you know breaking stuff isn't the answer to everything?" the voice says, and with a roar, Zack slams his shoulder into the door in retaliation. It shudders under his weight, but proves much stronger than he anticipates. He doesn't give up, throwing himself into it once more. The image of Ray's still, weak and prone body on the other side moves him to act. He can't leave her be with that freak.

"Tsk tsk, Zack. Don't hit the door so hard. Tired Ray will wake from her nap!"

"...Danny, you _bastard!_ " Zack yells out, pounding against the door. Hell, he hopes how loud he's being _does_ wake her up. Maybe she'd be able to hide from the creepy doctor.

"Too bad!" Danny giggles on the other side, sounding far too pleased with himself. "It won't budge even with _your_ strength! It looks like the doors on this floor are quite sturdy indeed!"

" _Hey!_ What is this all about?! _Open_ the _door_ , Danny!" the boy growls out, and Danny tsks again.

"Yes, Zack... I _could_ open it. But now's not the time," he replies nonchalantly, sounding a little further away. "...Isn't that right, Rachel? Oh, I _do_ hope she opens her peepers soon."

Blind fury wells within the noiret. Just the thought of Danny being locked in that room with Ray makes his blood boil.

"Hey... if you touch a hair on her head, you're _dead!_ " he angrily exclaims.

"No need for the attitude, Zack," clucks the doctor with amusement, "I won't harm her. But now I have a full deck! Rachel's safety... and how to find the way out of this building!"

The doctor's statement leaves Zack stunned for a moment. The way out? Could he seriously mean it?

"Wha-?"

Danny's voice suddenly grows sharper, targeting the boy directly with every syllable.

"Now use that worthless brain of yours to comprehend what I'm about to say, you illiterate fool... I mean to give you some clues and a helping hand!" he declares. "You've stood complacently by her side, oblivious. Worse of all, she refers to you as her God! And you aren't even _opposed_ to the idea."

"Fucker..." Zack hisses, already irritated. He doesn't care if Danny's trying to 'help' or whatever the hell. Right now, he really just wants to cave in his skull and rip him in half. How could he even begin to understand how he feels, anyway, that sick bastard. "Quit ramblin' and talk like normal so I can understand!"

The other voice falls silent, then finally responds.

"...Now go and learn about her. This floor is the very _essence_ of her... I'll let _you_ decide then what's truly best for her... Depending on your choice, I'll get you out of here... Sans Rachel, that is."

Danny's dicking around is starting to royally get on his nerves. He slams his palm flat against the door. "What kinda half-assed explanation is that?!"

 _I don't have time to waste on this guy!_

" _Hey! Wake up, Ray!_ " Zack yells loud, hoping to catch the girl's attention, but Danny just laughs again.

"She slumbers, hiding such lovely jewels..." he comments in a sickeningly adoring voice, as if speaking of a pet. "...Until you know her, she shall remain this way."

His footsteps fade away, and Zack stares at the wood barrier for a moment before hitting it with his fist again, ignoring the pain that threads through his arm.

"...Hey! _Cut the bullshit! Shiiiiit!_ "

No matter how he fights against the door, it doesn't move. Finally he stands back, breathing heavily in exertion. He can't stop thinking of Ray's actions, and Danny's little 'helpful' speech.

 _...'Know' her? She must be hiding a hell of a secret, then. Somethin' about God and some other stuff..._

Nothing adds up, and it all just proves to get on his nerves further. The fact of the matter is that she's in Danny's clutches right now, and he could be doing who knows what to her. Even if he tries to figure it all out right here, there's no answers for him to draw that'll get him back to her side any faster.

 _...Aahhh! There's no use in thinkin' about it! Maybe somethin' will turn up if I tear this whole place apart._

Vaguely he remembers another door in that room that he hadn't tried to open, and he knows that's how Danny must've gotten in. If he can locate it, he could try to rip his way through there if he has to.

 _Anyway, I'll have to get there by goin' around from here._

Already fantasizing about what he plans to do to Danny once he can get his hands on him, Zack takes a step past the debris of the toy— and something clicks under his feet.

 _...Huh?_

His quick reflexes register something before even he realizes, and he leaps off to one side as an object whizzes by his head, narrowly missing him and sticking into the door behind him, getting trapped in the wood.

 _What was that just now?!_

He cautiously peers at it, noting the sharp arrow that would've impaled him. He doesn't know what kind of fucked up person would set up something like this except for Cathy, but at least he's ready to face it.

Glancing along the now-eerily quiet hall, he knows that can't be the only one. _I gotta dodge 'em, or I'm shish kebab!_

He moves forward a step, and another arrow lets loose from a set of holes in the ceiling above. This time he's ready for it, and he sidesteps it easily, watching it fly back into the door. By the time he's done, that thing'll be swiss cheese.

Advancing down the walkway is a challenge, as it seems every inch he moves forward, he gets shot at; but finally he hits the landing where they'd gotten off the elevator, and the arrows stop coming. Breathing in relief, he stares at the fifteen or so arrow lodged in the back of the hall, frowning to himself.

 _What_ _is_ _this place!? What's going on here?! This place has 'cheap, instant death' written all over it! Awww, shit... what a pain in the ass!_

Now putting some of Ray's caution to use, he moves up the stairwell to the left and enters the 'second floor'. The stairs creak with his every move, making him paranoid.

At the top, he finds something lying on the ground, and he curiously reaches for it. It's a little heavy but not by much for someone like him.

 _Oh? What do we have here...? Looks like a... white board. There's some sort of writing on it..._

 _...Sure wish I could read,_ he grouses internally. _Guess I'll pick it up for the hell of it._

Looking around, he observes the empty hall. Another stairwell across from him leads down, but the floor up here has two doorways that he can actually see. Of course they're not important right now, so he vies for the next stairs. The sooner he can get to Ray, the better.

 _The floor squeaks like crazy around here..._

Sprinting down the stairs, scythe ready if something comes after him. When he reaches the bottom, he notes that he's now in what looks like a kitchen and dining room combo. There's sparkling clean appliances and a table for six, with a pizza box on it. A short blood trail of footprints leads away from a large, dark dried puddle of blood in the center of the floor.

The first thing to draw his interest is the pizza, of course. He circles the table, noting the familiar logo on the box. Hell, it's been years since he had a decent slice of pizza. His stomach growls with the thought, reminding him that it's probably been days since he last ate anything.

Cautiously lifting the lid, he stares in surprise at the perfect pizza sitting inside. Granted it looks a little dried out, but any pizza is better than no pizza. He was honestly expecting a bomb under the guise of food, though, so the sight is pretty shocking.

 _...What's a pizza doin' here? Can I eat it?_

Before he thinks twice about it, he withdraws a slice of the pizza, already thinking about the taste and texture of it in his mouth. God, he hasn't had anything nice to eat outside of makeshift cereal in what feels like forever.

Raising it, he takes a bite out of the slice. It's not the best, and it's slightly warm, like it's still recent somehow.

...Until it starts getting hotter, and hotter. His tongue is on fire. His entire face is suddenly engulfed in invisible flames, and he coughs, dropping the slice to the ground.

"H- _Hooooot! Mother-fuuuuuuuuuuuckin' hot fuck! On a fuckin' plate!_ "

In anger and retaliation, he uses his scythe and slashes down against the table, cutting through it and the pizza, then kicking it across the room in his rage. When he finally feels like he's gotten vengeance, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the nasty burning taste lingering in his mouth.

 _What sort of sick, twisted trap is_ _this_ _shit!?_

Something catches his eye, however. Something that doesn't belong where the table had sat a moment ago— a steel trap door nestled in the fabric of the rug.

 _...Huh? A door... Is there a basement or somethin'?_

He grabs at the thin handle on the top and yanks, but the door refuses to budge under his attempts. He kicks at it, hits it with his fists, even tries to use his scythe to pry it open but nothing.

 _I can push, pull, hit or kick it all I want, but it won't get me anywhere!_

Then he realizes something that instantly makes him feel a bit stupid— a small keyhole.

 _...It's locked? I gotta search for a_ _key_ _?! What a pain in the ass!_

Kicking it one last time for good measure, Zack heads for the door on the other side, trying the handle. Locked— of course. It's a fucking running gag with everyone on every floor, isn't it?

 _But, this door is the one that matches up with the other, right? So Danny and Ray must be on the other side._

He tries to force it open, but the door is unyielding once more. _Hard as a rock... Are the doors here made of metal or somethin'?_

 _I better keep looking around. There's another room plus that little door on the ground that might get me in there faster._

Entering the next room over, he realizes it's a regular, stereotypical bathroom. It's rather clean and well-kept, with even a washer and stuff. Though when he tries a sink, no water runs out.

 _Weird... not even a drop._

He wanders the room, searching for clues albeit he doesn't expect much. There's a bathtub filled with some murky water that he'd rather not stick his fingers in. A mirror shows his ugly reflection, and he has to resist the urge to crack it into small pieces.

 _Nothing. There's fucking nothing in this goddamned room. What now?_

Just out of reflex, he glances down at the toilet by the door— and does a double take when he stares down into the bowl.

 _No way. Somethin's inside._

 _Ah, shit... do I really gotta...?_

He's done some pretty gross things before, but sticking his hand in places shit belongs isn't exactly his idea of a fun time. Still, the thing at the bottom could be important, and he's no coward.

Thrusting his hand into the cold water, he cringes and curses under his breath as he fishes for the object. When he finally locates it, he's lightning fast yanking it out of the depths.

" _Groooooooosssssss!_ "

Shaking his hand to rid himself of the feeling of the water, he gazes upon the 'treasure' he'd hunted down... A key.

 _You're kidding me. A key? What kinda dipshit would put a key somewhere like this?!_

He shudders a little, disgusted beyond belief and not wanting to glance at his wet hand.

 _My hands... I gotta wash 'em._

Knowing the sinks in here don't work and the ones in the kitchen probably don't either, he heads for the bathtub. It's not exactly what he prefers, but it'll do.

 _It's dirty, but better than washin' 'em in the shitter, I guess._

He places his hands in the water. it feels grimy, but much less nausea-giving than the john. Until—

"—Huh?!"

Zack barely yanks himself away from the edge of the tub before the creatures inside it chomp up at him, a few of them latching onto his hands quickly before he shakes them off violently.

"Owwww!"

Whatever it was disappears back into the depths before he can get a good look, and he frowns at his hands, seeing the teeth marks beginning to form little droplets through his bandages.

 _What the hell was it?!_

In anger he moves forward. The tub is old fashioned, and has a chain-pull drain. He grabs hold and throws it out of the water, watching the contents swirl away to reveal the bottom.

 _...What's this?_ _Fiiiishhhh?!_ _C'mon now! For tiny fish, they sure got some razor-sharp teeth! And that attitude! Looks like these little fishies don't know their place in the foodchain... Do I_ _look_ _like food?!_

"Now look at my hands," he mumbles aloud, wiping them off on his jacket. "They're drippin' with blood..."

 _Well, I guess blood's an improvement over that other shit._

 _Screw this room, I'm outta here._

 _...I wonder if that key works on that trap door out there?_

He leaves the room without a second look, making a beeline for the door he'd battered earlier. Kneeling down, he frowns at the key in his hand before sticking it into the lock.

 _I'd rather not touch this key, but looks like I got no other options._

The door swings downward, and he feels a sense of pride fill his chest. _It opened!_

 _This leads downstairs, huh...?_

He's wary, but there's not much else he can do. He starts down, entering the darkness.

His footsteps fill the empty silence. The further down the stairs go, the less comfortable he feels. When he reaches bottom, he's faced with a short narrow hall, where the walls are painted a deep blue and lined in iron. There's a cell and another hall, and he narrows his eyes.

 _...Here we go again with another weird place. Now it's a basement; everything's so damn complex... What the hell can I find out about her here anyway?!_

Crossing in front of the cell, something howls within. He pauses, and crinkles his nose at the acrid scent that emanates from within.

 _Man, it reeks of animals... Something's in there._

Moving on, he goes down the hall. It seems to open up into a bigger room with another entrance. There's bloodstains scattered every which where.

 _The hell...?_

Something clangs open behind Zack. He instantly turns on his heel, scythe gripped tight in his hand, and watches as three big creatures enter the room along with him.

Dogs— muscular, angry, _hungry_ mongrels with beady eyes, taking slow pawprints toward him. He sneers at them, not too intimidated, although they don't look like the friendly type. They're probably the cause of the bloody messes in the room.

 _...Whoa, shit! Those are some monster mutts! What the hell's up with this place?!_

Swinging his scythe in his hand, he clicks his tongue and glares at the dogs, meeting ferocious eyes with fire to match.

"Are you hungry? You're all dirty and covered in drool," he taunts. "Back off! I'll beat your asses if you bite me!"

They bark and roar at him, spreading out around him, and he tenses up. He's not in his best condition, but fuck if he'll die down here to a bunch of mangy canines.

He swipes at one of them, and they rear back with a low howl.

"Don't like taking a beating, eh? You're good as dead, you filthy mongrels!"

What ensues next is a mass of bloodshed. Zack doesn't hold back, and his scythe tears out over them. They bark and snap at him, saliva flying and hunger pushing them to attack him mercilessly. They're deadset on him being their lunch, but he's not ready to lie down to something this stupid, even as they score bites on his arms and legs.

His scythe cuts and chops down on them, leaving them bleeding and whining, and they circles around, barring him from the next entrance as if protecting it. He growls under his breath, becoming annoyed fast.

"Hey, get outta the way, you dumb mutts," he glares. "Ready for another round, eh?"

"... _Bring_ it!"

They lunge for him, but he's done messing around. He impales one of them on his scythe and tosses it aside. Another roars and attacks him head on, biting into his lower calf, and he swirls the scythe up and cuts it in two. His sharp blade makes quick, easy work of the final, who cowers just a little at being the last of its brothers.

Surrounded by the bleeding, mangled corpses of the canines, he wipes off his blade and runs the back of his hand over his forehead, clearing his throat. He's exhausted and hellishly sore now, his body screaming out at being used so roughly.

 _...Aww man. Stupid pooches wastin' my time... Plus those bites hurt like a bitch. Who uses a dog, anyway? The guy on this floor definitely has a screw loose._

Something comes to mind as he's catching his breath. It sets his teeth on edge, and it bothers him that it echoes so wrong in his thoughts.

 _'This floor is the very essence of Ray', or so he said..._

 _What in the hell is any of this supposed to tell me about Ray...?_

How could anything on this floor tell him anything about her? What exactly is the connection to this floor, and her?

Zack walks past the dismembered dogs to the entryway. It's blocked off by some kind of table, and he rolls his eyes.

 _This thing's in the way._

Whipping his scythe around, he crashes the tip down upon the wood, splintering it into pieces as easily as if shredding paper. He grins to himself, self-satisfied, before walking inside, following the now-clean wood flooring to the room that awaits.

The moment he steps inside, it all hits him at once, and he's stuck staring at the decor and objects in the room, unable to wrap his head around it.

It looks like a child's playroom. The walls are a deep azure with red-painted stars and moons. What looks like hundreds of stuffed animals litter the room all over, amongst other varying toys. At the center of the room is a chair with a small red box on it, surrounded by vases of flowers.

 _It's a mountain of tacky junk,_ he thinks first.

However, upon closer inspection, some of the animals and toys seem to be oozing some kinda red substance. It creeps him out, so he steers clear of them, wandering toward the box on the chair with curiosity. The scent of flowers is powerful in this particular spot, but the flowers look about as real as the ones above.

He reaches down to open the lid, but it doesn't move. He glares at it.

 _So this is locked too, huh...? How do I open it?_

He punches and yanks at the lid, but it's as immovable as the doors he'd try to pry open. Frustrated, he rubs his face.

 _Dammit— I'm all out of ideas._

Something else tears at him, and he sighs through his fingers. His other hand, tightly wrapped around his blade handle, grows even more vise-like with anger at himself.

 _...Even if I try to learn more about her, my head can't keep up! The box won't open, and this room makes no freakin' sense! Man, this place is more fucked up than_ _my_ _room!_

 _It wouldn't hurt to clean up every now and then!_

Those words...

Someone else said those words. No, he _knows_ who; Ray. When she'd explored his room, she'd said that it'd be good to 'tidy up'.

...Without her here, those words feel so empty. Like a stranger'd spoken them.

 _...Damn,_ he finally resigns himself, irritated beyond belief. _Guess there's no choice but to look somewhere else. I gotta get back to that room and do something about that eyeball freak before Ray wakes up._

He turns away, not wanting to look at the room any longer. It bugs him how weird it is inside— probably the domain of some creepy psychopath even more twisted than he himself.

Walking back through, he feels something click underneath his feet. He freezes in place, eyes cast every which way in a panic.

 _I stepped on something again! Shit— Another trap?!_

Without warning, the floor under his feet gives way. He yelps in surprise as he drops, flailing out toward the edge and narrowingly catching it with his hand. His other hand, dangling with the scythe, weighs him down easily.

"For fuck's sake?!" He cries out angrily, his fingertips taut against the wood. "What kinda house _is_ this?! The guy in charge of this floor needs his head examined!"

The floor under his fingers begins to creak with his weight. A despairing feeling washes over him, and he grits his teeth hard.

 _Crap! One wrong move and the wood will give way!_

 _If I fall... Then I'd probably be a goner..._

 _Ahh... Dammit._

His fingers are painful holding onto the wood, and he knows he can't hang forever. Not to mention, any shifting on his part will lead to his inevitable drop to death.

"—You would do well to be more wary, Zack."

He stiffens at the voice that addresses him. Peeking over the wood, he sees the well-polished boots of a man coming up toward him, followed by a familiar purple robe.

"Although, I expected something like this would happen..." Gray murmurs.

The sight of the priest instantly sets Zack on edge. Even in his predicament, seeing him isn't any kind of relief. No, he just feels even more annoyed by his presence.

"Expected?! Expect my _knife_ in yer belly! What the hell are _you_ doin' here?!" he growls out petulantly.

Yet, even as he faces the preacher with a stony glare, the man doesn't flinch. instead, he reaches down, and Zack prepares for him to sever his fingers or somethin' to drop him down into the abyss below.

But he instead grabs hold of Zack's arm and yanks up hard, pulling him out of the hole. Zack uses his scythe to leverage himself up easier, and then Gray lets go of him, allowing him to stand on his own two feet.

The action leaves him in even more confusion. The guy had the opportunity to off him right then and there, so why didn't he?

"...Why did you save me?" he asks suspiciously.

Gray's pupil-less eyes gaze into him, and he shrugs. "Come now. What fun would it be if your story were to end here?" He glances backward, inhaling. "The girl who paid no mind to my warning and threatened me with a knife... _Rachel Gardner,_ is with Danny I presume?"

His knowledge of what's going on leaves Zack with a chill running down his spine, but the older man doesn't seem all too concerned, an awkward smile crossing his face.

"You were on a quest to take her back, were you not?"

 _The hell would he know?_

"So what?" Zack bristles, shifting from foot to foot. If the old geezer says another goddamned word about it... he'll rip him to bits. "Whaddaya want from me?"

"Hmm..." Gray's smile grows gentler as he observes the young man, amused. "Zack, could it be that you have learned to feel emotions through all of this?"

Ray's face pops into his mind with the ferocity of a lightning strike amidst a collection of memories, and to his horror his cheeks blaze under his wrappings. He can't begin to fuckin' comprehend the stupidity of the priest's words, as if he's _trying_ to get under his skin or something. What he himself feels or doesn't feel is nobody else's goddamn business.

"What's so fuckin' funny? Quit smilin'— wipe that smug look off yer face!" Zack hisses through his teeth.

Gray's expression doesn't change, but he does nod his head in acknowledgement. "Ahh... forgive me. I didn't intend to ridicule you."

"Then what the hell _did_ you intend?" He can't keep the ruffled tone out of his voice.

 _What is this guy toyin' at?_

The man turns away, his hands knotted behind his back. "I was merely intrigued as to what came over you."

His puzzling answer sets off all kinds of irritation, and Zack snaps back, twisting the handle of his scythe. "Huuh? Whaddaya mean 'came over you'? Why the hell is everyone here so damn cryptic?!"

He points the scythe at Gray threateningly, even if the priest can't see it.

"And _you're_ the biggest question mark of them _all!_ Now what the _hell_ do you mean?!"

Gray looks up to the ceiling for a moment, before turning around to face the hooded boy. He takes a glance at the scythe, but seems to brush it off as unimportant.

"Hmm... Very well, Zack. It appears sophisticated matters are not your strong suit; allow me to explain."

He takes a few measured steps out into the middle of the bloodied room where the dogs lie in pieces, before turning around once more. He raises a hand, clutching his bible in his other hand and gesturing out in a sweeping movement.

"Ever since childhood, I have observed those devout to God. Some were beauteous, whilst some were... _blind_ and _ugly_. At times, people would exploit God as an instrument to condemn non-believers. And then... pretentiously flaunt God's imagery. I suppose it always weighed on my mind— 'What would God truly think if He saw those people'? ...Or so I asked myself."

His words are filled with power and nostalgia. He seems to be taking each sentence from a well within himself, pouring out something to Zack.

Unfortunately, his fancy words are practically useless. Everything he's spoken is like gibberish in the boy's ears, and he's left wondering what the hell he just heard.

"... _Whaaaaat_?" Zack utters before he can stop himself, and Gray gives him a disapproving look.

"Could you be civil and heed what I have to say? Though earnest, you lack such consideration."

Rubbed the wrong way, Zack dips his scythe into the floor beneath his feet, flipping off the priest. "Oh, give it a _rest,_ will you? I _told_ you to make it simple so I can get what yer talkin' about! Nothing you said makes any sense!"

The reverend sighs audibly.

"Very well." He walks back to Zack, his features revealing nothing to him. "...In short, I wished to see things from the Lord's own eyes, by playing the role of God in this place. This building serves as a garden of sorts... to put my idea to the test. Those placed on B7 are mere subjects to be monitored, and angelic intervention was required to test and exact justice on those brought here. Those who possessed no opposition to bloodshed were adept; Danny, Eddie, Cathy..."

He smiles again, his thin brows furrowing.

"...and you, Zack."

Zack makes a face at him, but he can't offer any kind of retort. After all, he's not exactly wrong. He's never been afraid to spill blood for his own gain. Although it feels like forever ago now that he came to be here in this place.

"Although..." Gray continues on. "I suspect you have qualities far removed from the others."

The boy blinks a few times, not getting his meaning. "...Huh?"

"You were exceedingly pure and nescient," the priest clarifies lightly, before his expression darkens. "An unadulterated... _murderer_. Which is precisely why I brought you here as one of my angels. ...Nonetheless, you have broken the rules here, thus making you a sacrifice, as you are attempting to leave this place."

 _I knew it! I knew this freak had an ulterior motive!_

Zack raises his blade cautiously, ready to attack at a moment's notice. "So you _do_ wanna kill me, huh!?"

Gray gives him a sidelong glare, somehow managing to freeze the blood in his body for a moment before he glows red-hot with anger again.

"...I am _still speaking,_ " he snaps, before sighing once more and toying with his Bible. "...Do not misunderstand me. It appears that you, who only desired to leave this place, are attempting to take Rachel Gardner with you. Therefore... I became curious as to why. So both of you have now become 'monitored subjects'."

His teeth grinding together, Zack frowns visibly. Monitored subjects? Becoming a sacrifice, being some 'angel'... Fuck all of this.

"...It makes no fuckin' sense either way," he replies grudgingly.

As if knowing the boy wouldn't come to terms with all he's said so far, the priest nods his head. "Ah, that is perfectly fine with me. I do not think you verbally capable of conveying your feelings anyway. Besides, I am not done monitoring you yet, so we shall see what comes to pass."

A chill runs through Zack again. Hearing the guy say something so creepy... fuckin' stalker-like.

"...You say you're watchin' everything? _Seriously_ , Reverend?" he asks, to which the man shakes his head.

"That was my original intent... though if that bothers you, I apologize."

"What bullshit," the noiret grumbles. "What the hell is an apology gonna do for me?"

A light flickers on in Gray's eyes, and he taps his fingers against the cover of his book.

"Oh— come to think of it, solving the puzzle imposed by Danny may be somewhat beyond your abilities... Shall I lend you some assistance?"

First he's telling him that he's gonna die for 'breaking the rules', and now he's offering help? His suggestion is such a surprise that Zack's left gaping at the man.

"...Huh? Seriously?"

"Well, idling time away is also a dull act, you see," Gray smiles. "Should you find yourself at odds, then come hither for my counsel. In exchange for my help, however, I should like to keep watch over your actions. I wish to see how you intend to leave this place, what you are persevering to become, and who you really are."

He's quiet for a moment. Internally, Zack's inner alarms are going off, telling him that it's far too much of a hassle for this guy to creepily watch his every move. Yet... right now he's at a loss anyways. If he needs help, it'd be best to get it from this guy. He might be crazy and hard to understand, but he's better than nothing.

"...Fine," he finally says after a long period of silence.

He strides forward, past the reverend. Ray's on his mind again, and now more than ever he's running out of time to stand around and goof off. He's already wasted too much time on listening to the priest's speech.

"Oh, before that, Zack," Gray pipes up, stopping him. "Answer me this. How... How did you feel when Rachel Gardner called you 'God'?"

 _Dammit... It's like hearing a broken record player. It never ends with these people._

"...It creeped me out," he says honestly.

"Is that so?"

Zack takes another step forward, before something makes him stop again.

"Hey, do me a favor..." he says, his words targeting the priest.

"Yes?"

Another moment, before Zack waves a hand flippantly.

"...Stop talkin' in riddles all the damn time. It's such a major pain in the ass. Every single one of you are just idiots to me!"

He's not looking, but he can hear the smile in Gray's response.

"...Is that so...?"

"Yeah, it _is,_ " Zack snorts, before wheeling on the priest, thrusting a hand into his hoodie pocket. "So, uh... Hey."

"Yes?"

"Don't ' _yes_ ' me!" he instantly scolds, before grimacing to himself. Yeah, he hates the thought of asking for help, but there's not much else he can do at this point. For fuck's sake, a single locked door's got him stumped for good.

"...What should I do?" he finally manages to ask through his pride. "'Cause honestly, I don't got a clue anymore. Nothin' but locked doors everywhere... plus no keys. The only thing I got is this plate."

He withdraws the white board from his pocket, showing it to the reverend, and the older man eyes it with recognition.

"Zack, is that just an ordinary plate?" he inquires.

"Huuh?" _Great, and here I thought he had the answers._ Zack looks down at the plate, glaring at the scribbles he can't figure out etched over it.

"...I know there's writing on it," he admits. "But I can't read it."

Something on Gray's face changes, and a short smile crosses his face fondly.

"...Names are written on it," he explains.

Zack blinks. "...Names?"

"That name plate— 'tis meant to be hung on the door of its owner's room, Zack. Trying hanging it somewhere that comes to mind. I guarantee you will get a response from it."

 _Hung up somewhere? So I need to put this somewhere that makes sense, right? ...That's so dumb._

"...So I should just hang it wherever, huh?" he clarifies to himself, to which the priest nods.

"Yes, that too may prove fruitful. Know this;" His milky white eyes flash. "The names of a man and woman are inscribed upon it. Conceivably, a couple in wedlock."

 _A couple in 'wedlock'?_ None of this is ringing any bells, but it's better than knowing nothing; at least, he hopes so, anyway.

"...Hell if _I_ know," he mutters inaudibly.

 _Well, whatever. That was enough to give me a start, I guess. But where the hell would I hang some dumb board up with someone's name on it? I don't even know who these people are._

 _...I could try upstairs, maybe? I never did check those rooms up there._

His feet move before his brain catches up, and he exits the basement and finds himself back in that rickety hall upstairs in no time, where he'd found the plate in the first place. He steps around carefully, noting that some of the wood flooring looks as unsafe as the one he'd nearly fallen to his death from.

There's two doors down the hall, and he stops in front of the first one. A post of some kind seems to protrude from the door, like a gnarly finger waiting for something. He tries to open the door without putting anything on, but it proves immovable.

 _Could I try hanging it up here?_

Lifting the board, he positions it on the post and waits, not sure what to be ready for. Something clicks, but when he tries the door, it doesn't open.

 _Nothin', huh? Guess that means this room doesn't match the plate..._

He heads for the other door, finding a similar post. He glances down at the plate in his hand.

 _The name plate is hung on the room of its owner... huh? Do I hang the plate here?_

Figuring to try it again for the hell of it, he ungraciously sticks it on. He doesn't expect much, but to his surprise, there's another click and the door unlatches before his eyes.

 _...Pay dirt._

 _...Whose room is this?_

Stepping inside, he's greeted by modern decor. A king-size bed is in the corner, and there's a rocking chair in the middle of the room. A vanity littered in makeups and some bookshelves are also in the room, and he squints at it all, trying to make out everything since it's so dim within— lit up by the light of one of those fake moon-windows.

 _It's just a plain old room._

He begins rifling through. The bed and underneath it prove useless, and he inspects a plant near the vanity that turns out to be fake, with leaves of fabric. The amount of false, fake stuff around here's really starting to get weird. Who actually buys so many plastic plants?

There's a large dresser toward the back of the room. Some magazines and bottles are spread out over the top messily along with a small jewelry box, and he starts pulling out drawers and glancing through. Underwear, books, some kinda photo album...? Lame. Nothing actually useful.

He reaches out for the jewelry and lifts the lid, and finds it devoid of anything except a small key. He blinks, something clicking in the back of his mind.

 _...Can I use this to open that box in the basement?_

He shoves it deep into his hoodie pocket, starting to move away to inspect some of the other objects in the room, when the floor under his feet begins to shake, throwing him off balance.

 _What the-?!_

The world around him shivers and shakes violently, and something clangs overhead. His head whips up so see the ceiling slowly descending on him, and he squeaks in shock.

 _Tits on Christ! The ceiling's comin' down! I gotta get outta here before I'm a pancake!_

Nearly tripping over his own two feet, Zack flies back the way he'd come, maneuvering past the chair and the objects strewn along the floor. The roof is coming down far too fast, and he pours haste into his steps, leaping out the door just in time for the ceiling to drop down, sealing off the room forever.

Breathing hard, he picks himself up off the wood paneling and catches up with his wild brain, his pulse racing under his skin. After he's managed to calm down a bit, he shakes a fist upward.

"Gimme a break! Stop fuckin' with me, house! Whoever's in charge of this floor needs a lobotomy!"

 _I could've nearly gotten fuckin' flattened._

He moves to yank at the door, but it refuses to open. The nameplate doesn't seem to be movable now either, like it's been locked in.

 _Awww, shit! It won't open..._

 _...What is this place to Ray, anyway?_

What the hell does some weird room for a couple have to do with her? Why would she even be involved with this place? So far, all he's managed to find are more questions instead of answers. Nothing has given him anything to go off of. Hasn't he been looking hard enough? Is he really so stupid he can't piece it together?

Hell, maybe it's right in front of his face, and he just can't see it?

 _...Nevermind. I got a key. At any rate... guess I gotta keep goin' to find out more about her._

 **.x.X.x.**

Back in the basement, Gray greets him with a smile as he approaches.

"How are you progressing?"

"Shut up!" Zack snaps instantly. "I almost got squished in some crazy goddamned room!"

The priest tightens his grip on his Bible, shaking his head. "...I see."

Not liking the disappointed look on Gray's face, he finds himself offering up more information, flashing the small key he'd found.

"But, I did find a key!"

A light sparks in Gray's soulless eyes, like he's filled with pride or something, and he smiles once more.

"Well, that _is_ good news!"

Now awkward, Zack brushes past him, biting the inside of his cheek. "Just... shut up!"

 _Don't act so creepily proud of me or something. I ain't yer kid._

Moving on, the hooded boy leaps across the gap left by the trap pitfall, finding it easy to do despite his protesting body. Ray did a good job patching him back together, at least.

The toys and weird oozing creatures around the room are really giving him the creeps. He despises this room, but he walks up to the small box anyways. If this will help him learn more about Ray, then what choice does he have?

Sticking the small key into the box, he finds to his luck that it fits perfectly. The lid pops open immediately, and he slowly raises the lid.

He jolts when something begins to play, and he realizes that the box itself is emanating soft music. The melody isn't something he recognizes, but it stirs something in his chest.

 _So it plays music when it opens..._

Glancing around the room, he grouses under his breath despite the soothing notes.

 _It's all just a pile of goddamned junk, an' it all_ _reeks_ _of... kids' playthings..._

Facing the box again, he notices something lying within it. But when he fishes it from the box, he lets out a displeased whine.

 _Ahh! Another plate with writing is inside!_

Great. Just another thing he has to figure out. Who knew not being able to read would be this fuckin' annoying?

 _It's small than the one before,_ he thinks as he examines the plate, noting the words scribbled on it. _Plus the writing's not as long._

He squints down at the two words. They're unreadable to him, but... somehow, it's like he's seen it before. Familiar, almost.

The box suddenly snaps closed, the music abruptly ending before him, and he gazes at it before turning away. The plate feels ice cold in his hand, and he stuffs it into his pocket.

 _Guess I'll get goin'..._

Crossing the long gap between rooms again, he sees Gray's expectant gaze on him. A thought passes his mind before he stands before the priest, raising the plate and waving it in his hand.

"Hey, do I use this plate the same as the one before?"

"Ahh," the reverend says. "So you found the other one. ...'Tis to be handled in the same manner as the one before it."

His multicolored eyes float to it. "...Is that so...?"

 _So this name... is supposed to go on the other door..._

Gray notices the way he eyes the writing, and raises a brow. "What troubles you? ...Are you curious about the inscription?"

...!

Zack goes entirely stiff, not realizing that his thoughts were written so bare across his features, and Gray chuckles under his breath.

"If you wish to know, then I shall read it for you," he offers.

The first words at the tip of his tongue are; _do it._ But before he can utter them, something else tells him not to do it, a voice that hardly ever speaks up. It tells him to think more, to figure it out himself— to understand why he finds it familiar on his own. He's never taken the easy road before, and even now when Ray's life hangs in the balance as well as his own, he feels like it's important that he do the footwork himself.

"...Nevermind," he says, placing the plate back in his pocket. "Don't read it."

"Are you not curious?" The priest presses him.

Zack turns from the priest. His hand is balled in a fist at his side, and his scythe feels like a leaden weight.

"...Even if I was, I don't feel like havin' someone tell me."

Gray grows wistful. "...I see."

Walking past him, Zack's thoughts swirl around, trying to understand. He doesn't know how to read, that's for sure, let alone know someone's name by heart. It doesn't make sense that he somehow _knows_ those letters, that person's name. He's never taken the time to memorize someone's goddamn name before, since they're always gone so quickly.

So why? Why does it matter? Why didn't he just let Gray tell him what it was?

Those thoughts consume him past the nasty, spicy pizza, up the stairs, all the way to the room where he'd tried to hang the other plate. Staring at it, he glances down at the small plate once more.

 _This is bound to be where I'm supposed to use it._

 _...I still don't know whose name this is though._

 _...Oh well, just as long as it opens._

Pushing past his curiosity and confusion, he hangs the plate. It clicks like the last, but then triggers the door, opening it for him. He breathes a sigh of relief, but the longer he stares at the name, the more his curiosity eats away at him.

He takes a few steps back from it, puzzling it out in his head.

 _I_ _know_ _I've seen this plate's writing somewhere before..._

 _...!_

It comes to him suddenly, as if it'd been waiting for him to try and make the connection. Slowly, Zack pulls out the papers that had fallen from Ray's bag, staring down at them as if they hold all the answers he seeks.

 _That's right... these papers that fell from her bag..._

It must've come from them, but though he tries his damndest, nothing he pieces together makes sense. Half the letters don't even seem to make the right sounds.

 _Aaarrrgggghhhh!_

His fist slams into the door, crumpling the papers a little in his frustration.

 _It might as well be in gibberish— I can't read it!_

Moving to the center of the hall, he tosses the papers down onto the floor, then kneels down. He knows he's still in a hurry, but this is bugging him way too much for him not to figure out right now.

He lays them out flat, and scans over them. It's the one with Ray's photograph that catches his eye.

 _This one must be hers... And what're these numbers for? It says Ray's is '13'... and mine is '20'. ...Is it our ages?_

Trying to fit together the bits of information he can understand, he starts to gain a bit of knowledge from the pages.

 _Okay, so the spaces between the photographs and ages... are our names?_

Something about her name makes him cast a wary glance from the paper to the plate on the door. Rising and walking the papers over to the entryway, he stares between the two, comparing them.

 _...The first letter in Ray's name matches the first letter on the plate..._

 _...And the next letter also matches the next on the plate... And the next ones..._

 _...They all match._

He gazes at the plate. Somewhere inside himself, he starts laughing— a low-bellied chuckle that doesn't sound right even to himself.

Her name... is on that board.

 _Well, whaddaya know,_ he thinks. _I knew I'd seen them before. So... that means this is Ray's room, huh?_

Though he thought he'd feel victorious or something after figuring out the big secret behind the name, it leaves his insides cold and leaden. His feet don't want to move forward, though he knows he needs to.

 _What the hell is her room doin' here, anyway?_

That question feels impassable and strong. And there's only one answer he can see; to go inside.

 _...Oh well. Never mind that— I'm curious about what's in store for me next. Given what's been goin' on so far in this house, I bet nothin' good's waitin' for me in her room._

The fact of the matter is that he doesn't have much of a choice but to go into it, but it's as if there's an invisible shield blocking his path. He's had no problems invading other parts of the house, but knowing this is 'Ray's' room... for some reason, he's hesitating.

 _Well... there's no point in overthinking stuff,_ he finally decides. _Guess I'll go a bit further down the rabbit hole. ...Can't say I'm not curious._

Steeling himself, Zack moves forward and pushes open the door, stepping into it before he can somehow talk himself out of it.

The first thing he sees is the large, blackened puddle of blood near the entryway, coloring diamond-pattern carpet and white rug a nasty red. Looking past that, it's rather simplistic and bland, with baby blue walls and a lunar window casting light inside. The bed is small and decorated in a soft blue coverlet, and there's a rocking chair and a few bookshelves near her dresser. A TV sits off to one side, with a vcr and dvd player sitting underneath its stand, and a vanity sits empty besides a mirror and tiny chair.

 _Is this her room?_

He doesn't know how, but he knows the statement is correct. Maybe it's because the place absolutely screams of Ray's empty personality, of everything he's learned about her so far.

His eyes are continually drawn to the deep stain on the floor, and a sense of nausea rises in her throat. The room is calm and peaceful, and the stain feels... disruptive or something. It doesn't belong.

 _The floor's bright... red... Is that normal? Or is that bat-shit crazy? I've got no clue._

He walks further inside. It feels so intrusive, like he doesn't belong as much as that red spot doesn't. He's some big, bad monster entering the little kiddie's hideaway, or something like that. It gets on his nerves.

He can't help his own curiosity, though. Ray's an enigma of her own. Ever since they met, he hasn't been able to understand her at all— not that he really tried. He used her to advance, at first. Disposing of her back then would've been easy if she'd have just ran and screamed like the others, but she didn't. Her actions never made sense. And, yet... she kept him alive. She stayed by him and helped him along specifically so that he'd keep his promise to murder her.

Anyone else would think she's psychotic and twisted. But, coming from a monster himself... it's interesting. And before he knew it... he wasn't sure what he wanted from her anymore. Before, the urge to kill her was strong. Now, it's... watered down. In fact, she's got his head so screwed up right now that he doesn't even recognize his own self.

He brushes his gauzy fingertips along her bookshelves, the thick hard-backed novels pristinely kept on the shelf. He can imagine her poring over them in his head, flipping through their pages late at night.

 _...Books, eh? Can she read all of these? You gotta be kidding me._

Surprise reigns over the fact that there's nearly nothing in the room that completely says that this was Ray's space. In fact, it looks like anyone could've lived in here, it's so barren. There's a small hairbrush with blonde strands on the vanity table, but that's nearly the only thing that looks to be hers.

He moves over to the TV, raising a brow at it.

 _Does this thing turn on?_

Deciding to run with his initial thought, he presses the button and watches it spring to life. Kneeling down in front of it, he watches as an image appears there, and a voice echoes through the room... and begins to play an unhappy story through its static.

 **.x.X.x.**

 _'In (STATE REDACTED), (CITY REDACTED), the remains of Mr. and Mrs. Gardner were discovered at their private residence. Based on the blade-inflicted slashes and bullet holes on the remains, the incident is being treated as a homicide._

 _'Found more than a week after death, the remains are badly mutilated, having been sewn together unnaturally with thread. The daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, Rachel Gardner, was safely taken into protective custody, however..._

 _'...Reports indicate that due to her exhibiting signs of trauma, she is currently being questioned about the incident.'_

 _"Rachel, why don't we have a bit of an in-depth talk for our session today?"_

In a quiet, nameless room, a girl sits silently, facing a doctor. Her hands are lying in her lap, her hair hanging over her face. Her eyes see without truly seeing, staring off into the distance. She's hardly spoken a word in a very long time.

"It's alright," the doctor soothes her, leaning forward in his chair. "There's nothing to fear."

Still no response from her. He lays his clipboard in his lap and clasps his hands together.

"Ah... I got it. How about I talk about myself this time for a change?"

This time, her blue eyes rise up to his face, and he grins happily, pleased with his progress.

"Aha! You looked at me! Oh, I knew it— your peepers are so beautiful."

She says nothing, only looking at him with just the faintest flicker of interest. He skips a beat awkwardly, then clears his throat.

"Well, um... to tell you the truth, one of my eyes is made of glass. I was born without an eye, you see. When I was a child, my mother worried herself sick over it. Just worried and worried... with such dark peepers."

He glances off, reminded of a simpler time that felt all too complex back then. Now he looks back in fondness— of that time draped in dark shadows.

"Dark, and tranquil peepers... as her child, my silhouette in them was only fleeting. even so, I... still loved my mother. Her peepers were so precious."

Biting the inside of his cheek, the doctor mets her gaze levelly, but with a gentle smile.

"Rachel... did you hate your parents?"

She blinks slowly, and something flickers across her emotionless face for a single instant.

"...No," she murmurs.

"Well, then," he continues, tilting his head and continuing his inquisition. "Why do you think you cut and sewed them up?"

She ponders his question, before a beatific smile graces her seashell-pink lips.

"...I wanted a family."

The answer is so simple, it passes her by without a second thought.

"...I see," he replies calmly. "How did you come to feel this way?"

Her dark eyes return his gaze unflinchingly.

"...How...?" She blinks again. "...Good question."

The doctor flips through his clipboard, filled with notes of her (and her lovely eyes), finding what he's searching for.

"Ahh, come to think of it... Didn't you find a puppy in an alleyway near your house?"

Her eyes barely flicker.

"It was tiny cute, yet so fragile..." she whispers, memories filling her opaque vision. "I wanted to keep that puppy so bad... but I would get in trouble if I took it home."

"First, I went home to tell them about the puppy."

 **.x.X.x.**

 _The clock that always seems like it's far too loud can't cover up the noise in the house— or the crash of glass breaking yet again._

 _Walking in, Ray has barely taken a single step into her living room before the voices float to her ears, filled with malice and hatred._

 _"_ _Ahh!_ _Why do you_ _always_ _contradict me?!"_

 _"Well, who would listen to an alcoholic, for starters?!"_

 _"I was out working all day... and I_ _hate_ _being here in this house."_

 _"Hahaha... That's quite a mouth you got there. Who the hell has use for some wino cop like you?"_

 _"Oh, tell me_ _another_ _one, you bitch. Alcohol's less poisonous than the shit comin' outta your mouth!"_

 _There's banging and thuds, and a woman's cry of pain coming from the back of the house._

 _"You're hurting me...! Stop! Stop it...!"_

 _"I'm unhappy havin' wound up with a psychotic wife like you."_

 _"No doubt because your very existence is a wretched one! Tell me; why are you so unhappy?!"_

 _Another harsh slam. Ray's fingers are threading into her coat tightly, but she's unfazed even as the screaming gets louder._

 _"Aaagggghhh! You're the one that made me this way! It's your fault! All_ _your_ _fault!"_

 _Ray brushes her hair away from her face, gently sighing under her breath. Moments like these aren't anything new nowadays, even as more glass breaks and something swings hard into the wall._

 _'They're in the kitchen today,' she notes. 'Wonder if they'll listen to me?'_

 _Approaching the door to the kitchen without hesitation, right before she's about to open the door, footsteps cause her to stop in place._

 _'...Ah.'_

 _She backs away just in time as the door goes flying open, the heavy wood slamming into the wall hard enough for the entire house to shake under her feet._

 _A man walks out, his hands clenched tight as his sides. His rugged brown hair is out of sorts, and his blue eyes are wild and disoriented, filled with unbridled anger. The moment he sees her, he raises a finger toward her accusingly. She can see his knuckles are bright red and bleeding._

 _"Where were_ _you_ _walkin' around so late?" he demands harshly, stepping up to her threateningly._

 _Ray's throat suddenly doesn't want to work, shriveling as he advances on her. He spits in response._

 _"Not talkin' as usual, huh? Do you got half a brain in that head of yours?"_

 _"...Umm..." she finally manages. The mental image of the mangy, cowering puppy in the alley races through her mind._

 _His eyes flash sharply. "...Oh, so you got somethin' to say to me?"_

 _He starts to tower over her menacingly, but the sound of someone else entering the room causes him to halt in place, followed by a shrill voice._

 _"Hold it..."_

 _The woman that walks out has dirty, stringy blond hair wrapped up in a loose bun. Her face is creased by stress and age, and there's a glowing red mark across her cheek, as well as a bloody scrape down her arm that cuts through her mauve cardigan._

 _"Where do you think_ _you're_ _going with that money?" she growls with a mirthless chuckle. "Booze? Some whores? Hehe... Planning on making me miserable again?"_

 _"Stop laughin'," he waves her off flippantly. "It gets on my nerves. I'm off to buy my own happiness."_

 _"Is that so?!" she cries out angrily. "Then while you're out, can you buy_ _my_ _happiness too?! Go buy some happiness for an unhappy wretch like me!"_

 _He scoffs at her, unamused. "Not only are you unhappy, but you burn through all the money! Some kinda mental case that can't even make ends meet!"_

 _"Oh, it's always_ _my_ _fault, is it?! You always blame me! Aaaaaaaaaah, you foul bastard! Your filthy hands have even soiled my own life! Your brain, body and attitude are all soaked in booze!" she screams._

 _He moves lightning fast, slamming his hands palm first merciless into her chest, sending Ray's mother flying back into the kitchen door. As she recovers, he glares down at her. Ray begins to pipe up._

 _"Hey, dad... um..."_

 _"Ah, everything about this family is_ _miserable_ _," he hisses through his teeth, ignoring her. "I gotta have booze to cope."_

 _He brushes past Ray abruptly, heading for the front door, and her mother brings herself back ramrod straight and throws her words at him with the force of bullets._

 _"Don't run away from the hell_ _you_ _created!" she screeches, running up to him. "It's you!_ _You're_ _the one screwing me up; screwing this_ _family_ _up! It's not_ _my_ _fault, it's all_ _yours!_ _"_

 _Ray watches that fiery scowl darken his face, and she expects what happens next. he whirls on her mother, gripping her forearms vise-tight in his thick fingers, The woman yelps in pain, though he's relentless._

 _"Ow! You're hurting me! You good-for-nothing!"_

 _He slaps her hard across the face, then knocks his elbow into her chest, expelling the air in her chest in one blow._

 _"Shut the fuck up! You crazy bitch!"_

 _He hits her again, a fist to the stomach, and though she's in pain, she doesn't cower from him._

 _"Marrying you is the worst thing that ever happened to me!" she spits out._

 _He roars in fury, and unleashes a hellish attack on the woman, knocking her down to her knees with the force of his strikes. Her blood drips to the wood as he splits her lip and scratches her exposed skin, before tossing her into the beaten white couch like a limp ragdoll._

 _Ray's father laughs mindlessly to himself, cracking his knuckles and backing away from her._

 _"I don't wanna hit anyone," he says, mostly to himself as if trying to ease the weight of his actions. "But yer askin' for it... A creepy bitch that can't understand what this crazy bitch is thinkin'. My life's hit rock bottom because both of you fucked it up!"_

 _With that final statement, he storms out of the house, the front door crashing closed behind him. The resounding silence, broken by the ticking of the clock,_ _is_ _followed by Ray slowly approaching her mother. The woman lays her head against the beaten coach, tears in her eyes and nothing but pure hatred written over her expression._

 _"...Mom..." Ray begins, but she's interrupted by her mother's own ramblings to herself._

 _"One day... Ohh, one day... I..._ _will_ _... kill... him..."_

 _Not paying attention even to her daughter's presence, she pushes herself shakily to her feet and walks away, heading toward the upstairs landing._

 _Ray frowns to herself before starting after her, nothing but the puppy in her thoughts._

 _'I gotta make them listen...'_

 _She works her way over the cracked, long beaten and destroyed floor til she reaches her mother. The woman is rummaging through a drawer desperately at the end of the hall_

 _"I'll... shoot him..." she mumbles. "_ _I_ _f something happens to me... I'll... fight back with this..."_

 _There's a click, and the sound of something unlatching._

 _"I'll use this... to kill... that bastard... I'll_ _show_ _him. Now I've got a secret weapon hidden here. When the time comes, that bastard will blubber like a baby. He'll regret everything... He'll bow down and tell me I was right all along. it didn't have to be this way... It happened because of him..."_

 _Ray moves forward, cautiously advancing. "...Mom...?"_

 _Startled by the young girl's voice, her mother hastily shuts the door and whirls around, placing her hands against the table to steady herself._

 _"Ray... what is it?" she breathes, though seeming relieved that it's only her and not her father._

 _"Mom, I gotta talk to you about something," Ray starts off again, but her mother moves forward, pressing a trembling finger against her daughter's lips to silence her. Her hazel eyes are wild and filled with disconcerting emotions._

 _"Um... I can't deal with you right now," she says quickly. "The kitchen's a dreadful mess and I gotta clean it up. I'm not in a state to be listening to whatever you have to say..."_

 _Ray frowns further. If she doesn't say anything, she'll get in trouble. Just a few moments to listen wouldn't hurt, right?_

 _"...Please listen. You'll get mad if I don't ask for permission first, right?"_

 _Slap._

 _Ray's head snaps to one side as her mother's flat palm sends ehr reeling, her cheek burning with the ache of the hit. The woman begin to laugh, maniacally as she glares at her child._

 _"Amazing! Even my own_ _daughter_ _won't do as she's told?!"_

 _The blonde can't find words as she stares up at her parent, reaching up to tenderly touch her cheek as her mother roars at her._

 _"Don't you know?! Your being here has gotten me stuck in this hell... Your very existence is detestable. It's like I'm dealing with your worthless father— it makes me sick to my stomach. Now..." The woman points toward the stairs, every word laced in acid. "...go upstairs to your room."_

 _"Mom..." Gazing at her blankly with just the tiniest tinge of hope, Ray responds, "if I listen to you, will you listen to me...?"_

 _"Go!" Her mother shoves her away. "_ _Now!_ _Don't make me anymore of a miserable and cruel mother than I already am!"_

 _Ray's face falls, but her mother is already headed back into the living room. She stares after her, rubbing her cheek softly._

 _'Nobody's listening to what anybody has to say... Why is that?'_

 _Her own curiosity draws her back to the drawer her mother had been rifling through._

 _'...Mom was hiding something over there. Her 'secret weapon to make herself heard'?'_

 _As if drawn to the drawer, her feet take her to the simple scratched wood table, and her small fingers pull on the handle, revealing the object nestled amongst some papers._

 _'...A handgun... So something like this was here...'_

 _The woman's words continue to repeat in a cycle._

 _'...'secret weapon'.'_

 **.x.X.x.**

"In the end, nobody listened to what I had to say. And then... a while later, I went to visit the puppy."

Her soft voice continues through the room, neither rising nor falling with human emotion, but matter-of-fact and calm.

"The puppy was weak, and likely to fall over dead any moment. When I reached out to pet that puppy..."

Her small, pale hands twitch just slightly in her lap, as she stares outward.

"...It bit me. After that... what happened until I got back home is still hazy."

There's suddenly a show of life; a flash in her sapphire irises. It's not pleasant to see— like the shock that roots you to the spot as an oncoming train barrels toward you, too fast for your stiff body to avoid.

"When I came to, I was in my room... 'fixing' that puppy. But I was soon found out."

Her head tilts to one side, her silken blonde hair draping over her shoulders, and her expression becomes a tad wistful.

"...Gosh," she murmurs. "Mom and Dad were fighting really loud that day..."

 **.x.X.x.**

 _"What a good boy. Such a good boy."_

 _The clatter of glass as another window is destroyed downstairs, and the high pitch of a woman's screech. Ignoring it all, Ray continues to stroke her beloved new pet, enjoying the feeling of the fur under her fingertips._

 _"I could just eat you up," she coos to it, admiring it in the box she'd placed it in for safety. "I want you to stay with me forever."_

 _A heaving thud, and a man screaming at the top of his lungs. It's a nasty ruckus and painful on her ears, but she takes comfort in her dog._

 _"It's okay. Don't be scared..."_

 _Something loud hits the wall downstairs._

 _"It's all your fault! There's somethin' wrong with her because you're crazy!" her father yells out._

 _"No... it's_ _your_ _fault that kid's abnormal!" her mother responds heatedly._

 _The sounds of skirmish below only increase, and Ray's hands tighten around her puppy. Her chest feels cold and somehow painful, even with her joyful new family addition._

 _They're being so loud._

 _"Ahhh! I can't stand this anymore!"_

 _"Hey, what the hell are you doin'...!"_

 _Another crash, a bump— and then out of nowhere, a scream unlike Ray has ever heard before. It's unmistakably her own mother's hoarse voice, but it's filled with something akin to terror and pain._

 _Rising to her feet slowly and gently closing the box with the puppy, Ray frowns._

 _'Gosh... it's really bad today.'_

 _Those sounds were coming from the kitchen, she's fairly sure. Even though her feet are leaden and she doesn't want to go, she feels compelled to check._

 _'Guess I'll take a peek...'_

 _Moving downstairs, she finds that the sounds of her parent's fight has stopped. The eerie silence is almost worse than the yelling._

 _Stopping in front of the kitchen door, she hears some kind of unrecognizable sound from within. It's like... a sloshing sound, over and over._

 _Something told her not to go in. Something said, 'stop. It's bad. Don't go.'_

 _...But she entered despite the warning._

 **.x.X.x.**

"I vividly remember what I saw there."

Ray's face has taken a ghostly white pallor. Even as the doctor scribbles down note after note, she goes silent, as if she can't bear to remember. Her eyes become even more lifeless, but the memory of the sight replays behind those shattered dark irises

She inhales softly, but maintains composure. Her fingers are taut in her shorts, yet she somehow doesn't flinch at her own words.

"...I saw..."

 **.x.X.x.**

 _She's rooted in place. She can't move. She can't summon breath._

 _Her eyes are firmly pinned to the sight in front of her, as if she can't look away. Her body doesn't want to function._

 _There's... so much blood._

 _Drip, drip, drip,_ _goes the dark liquid across the floor. It paints a mosaic of grotesque beauty along the wood._ _Blood, crimson red staining_ _the floor_ _. A figure over another, wielding something sharp._

 _No…. no, no, no…_

 _It's all wrong. Everything is wrong._

 _There's so much blood, everywhere._

 _Her heart… is it still beating? Is this the height of madness?_

 _The rhythmic thrust of the blade into the person lying dead underneath them, and the_ _psychotic_ _chuckle of the person stabbing them mercilessly. They don't even register her presence at first._

 _Her father, coated in blood from head to toe. Her mother... lying in it, her hazel eyes staring out in terror. Stab wounds litter her body, gory and gushing, staining her favorite cardigan._

 _Ray can't muster words, and after a moment, he finally stops stabbing her long enough to turn his head to look at her. His knife lowers, but stays gripped tightly in his crimson fingers._

 _"...What are you doing?" he asks in a scarily measured tone._

 _Her throat is closed up, a lump buried in the center and keeping her from responding. Not that she knows how— she's not even sure what she's seeing._

 _This... can't be real._

 _"So you saw that, huh?" Her father picks himself off his wife, turning to face Ray. The long steak knife gleams, covered in blood and dripping that liquid all over the floor haphazardly._

 _Drip, drip drip... blood along the floor._

 _...Why is her father smiling?_

 _"Didn't you?' he inquires, taking a step closer. "I never had use for her all along. Everything here just makes me miserable."_

 _His eyes, the same blue as her own, grow malicious and filled with a burning desire, and he points the knife at her, shaking it in his large hand._

 _"That's why you, too, must_ _die!_ _"_

 _He starts moving toward her. Mindlessly, before she's thought it through, she's backing through the kitchen door, closing it behind her. The image of her mother lifeless on the kitchen floor is burned into her mind's eye._

 _Something breaks inside her. Something vital stops working, and she's left calmly thinking of the incident, and of what she must do._

 _'Ohh... how awful. Simply awful...'_

 _It's a shame. It's a tragedy, really, what happened._

 _Her heart feels so... heavy, but she's not sure how she feels. In fact, it's... like she doesn't feel anything at all._

 _'Ah, the puppy... I gotta get back to my room.'_

 _She rushes back toward the stairs. Nearly running past it, she suddenly stops upon seeing the table her mother had rummaged through that day. It feels like years ago._

 _'Come to think of it, mom was hiding a gun. For this moment...?'_

 _This moment, where everything would crumble and splatter across the ground. Where someone would die._

 _'In that case...'_

 _She moves forward, easily rooting through the drawer and pulling out the handgun. it gleams in the light, polished and hardly used._

 _'...It's okay for me to take it then.'_

 _Just out of curiosity, she checks the chamber— revealing a full round of bullets. She blinks._

 _'It's... loaded. Ohh...'_

 _'...I gotta hurry to my room.'_

 _Quietly she climbs the stairs, hearing louder footsteps not far behind hers. Entering her room, she shuts the door and slowly comes up to the box with her puppy, peering inside._

 _'It's safe...'_

 _"Don't be afraid," she whispers. "There's no need to worry. I mean..."_

 _She gazes down at the gun held tightly in her fingers. It's like looking at someone else's hand._

 _"...I really have no choice here."_

 _The door slamming open makes her look up. and hurried close the flaps on the box. Her father enters the room, kicking it closed behind him as he halts. He stares her down with those familiar eyes, the knife clutched tight in his grip and that sickening smile on his cracked lips._

 _"Do you think your father's crazy, Ray?" he asks her, before pointing down at the box. "But... Ray, you're just as crazy as me. Running to your room and talking to that_ _thing_ _— something's_ _not_ _right with you. Why don't you open that box...?"_

 _She doesn't respond. Instead, she does as she's told, carefully opening the flaps on the crate to reveal the mangled, mutilated and sewn together remains of the puppy. The inside of the box is bloodied, and its fur is matted and filled with mange, already starting to smell rotten._

 _He takes a single glance in it, and then laughs to himself, a mirthless, ugly sound._

 _"Ahh, just as I thought— you're_ _insane._ _What the hell did you do to that dog?! It's a patchwork corpse!"_

 _Another step forward. She can see the bruises and scratch marks on his face, left over from her mother's nails._

 _"That dog— you_ _killed_ _it, didn't you?" He waves his knife, prying into her with his words. "Did stitching up its belly and sewing its mouth shut feel_ _good_ _...?!"_

 _Finally, somewhere inside her, something snaps._

 _"...No," she responds, eyes growing glassy. "It... just became 'mine'. It became... my perfect puppy."_

 _Her world suddenly feels so closed in. Her heart is shutting down, and she can't feel much of anything at all. Her anger, her sorrow, her confusion and fear is gone._

 _She's left empty._

 _"Hey, Dad..."_

 _She raises the gun, pointing it at the man covered in her mother's blood. Ray doesn't have any hesitation as she takes aim, finger pressed to shoot._

 _"Become my..."_

 _A twisted, happy smile lights over her face. She doesn't feel happy, but she desires him._

 _Desires her perfect family._

 _...Desires to have everything she never had. To have it all... become 'hers'._

 _"Become my... perfect daddy," she murmurs._

 _She squeezes the trigger._

 _He staggers, blood blooming over his chest pocket. She shoots again, hitting his arm. She fires again, and again, and a shot to the head is what brings him down, crumpling into an unmoving mass against her bedroom carpet. His bleeding body leaves a deep crimson stain over her floor, but she's filled with bliss._

 _Now that he's broken... she can mend him. She can make them all perfect._

 _"It's alright..." she murmurs to the empty air._

 _"...I'll 'fix you'."_

 **.x.X.x.**

"Afterwards, I sewed Mom and Dad to each other. I did it so they'd get along with each other."

Her smile then is genuine as she thinks of what happened. It's as if she's recalling a fond memory of her past, though her emotions seem flawed beyond repair.

"Then, I replaced dad's bad arm with a stuffed toy's. I sewed mom's mouth so she made a big smile."

Her fingers clasp together tightly, and she closes her eyes.

"That was... my perfect Mom and Dad."

The doctor watches her expression grow lighter. As she gazes at him, she's not truly seeing him, but the days she spent along with her 'perfect' family.

"All three of us played all day everyday with our puppy. _Oh,_ it was so much fun. So..." She grows despondent, looking away. "When the police took them all away from me, I was so sad."

Danny gazes upon her with reborn vision, reassurance etched over his face.

"I see what you mean," he tells her, reaching out to softly touch the back of her hand. "I understand your sadness, Rachel. Can I... ask you one more thing?"

She nods, and he takes it as his go ahead.

"After that, a little animal died at the orphanage that took you in... Do you know why? Did you do that too?"

She thinks about his question, before nodding a second time.

"...Yeah."

"So, why did you feel the need to stitch it up too? I heard you absolutely adored that pup...?" he asks.

Ray swallows softly, before her brows knit together.

"I did adore him... That's right. I... really loved him. But it wasn't meant to be."

"Wasn't meant to be?"

"Yeah..." She meets his gaze. "There was something I wanted."

She smiles at him again, her expression purely cherubic and sweet despite her words.

"I wanted something for my family... Something to 'call my own'. But, for some reason..." Her expression falls quickly, growing dark. "...Things never play out like they should."

He ponders her statement, something lighting up in his own mind. Already, he can feel the cogs turning in the back of his head.

Her peepers... are _perfect._

"Never play out like they should, huh...?" he notes aloud, setting his clipboard down in his lap and leaning forward again to meet her eyes levelly. "So, Rachel... You want something to call your own? You want more things to 'call your own', do you?"

Her expression grows puzzled. He rises from his chair and moves to kneel at her side, taking her cold hand between his own.

"Rachel... my mother took her own life," he confesses. "My eye... is what killed her. Your peepers... bear a striking resemblance to the ones I last saw of my mother's. Dark, tranquil... and most of all, beautiful. I'm in love with your peepers. I hope the dark glow in them sparkles for eternity."

He offers her his own kind smile, his hold tightening.

"A steadfast glow that will grant all your wishes in the world... Right, Rachel?"

Their image lies burned on the screen, where Ray and Danny gaze at one another in perfect harmony. His smile is bright and happy, where her expression remains dormant.

 _Crack._

With a heaving, loud swing, Zack's scythe slams down on the television, cutting the electronic into pieces with rage. His shoulders heave with exertion, his gut in pain but his chest feeling like wood.

He can't erase what he's seen. He can't stop thinking about the shitshow he just witnessed— or what it's trying to tell him.

What it's implying about her— about Ray.

"...That's fuckin' sickenin'," he growls out loud to the empty room. "What the hell you showin' me this for...?"

 _Is this... supposed to tell me somethin' about Ray?_

He doesn't want it to make sense, but even his own stupid brain can figure out two plus two. The puzzle pieces are starting to fit together, but what it's showing him isn't what he wants to see.

 _The handgun, needle, thread, and that corpse doll in the one room..._

 _Rachel Gardner..._

 _...'Ray'._

He understands. He can't deny the facts of it all now, but it explains itself.

His scythe is hot and heavy gripped to his palm, and his head hurts trying to deal with all of this shit— but it's obvious now. He can't believe he didn't see it before.

 _...So, this is_ _her_ _floor, huh?_

 _Which means, the killer here is..._

Her name springs to mind. All of this floor, being the 'essence of Ray' and important for him to learn about her... Now he gets it. He doesn't like it one bit, but he's not in the dark anymore.

 _...Guess I'll get goin',_ he finally decides. His feelings about Ray feel strung out and haywire, confused, and he's not sure what to think now. It bugs the crap out of him, trying to understand himself amongst this bullshit. But he's got one destination. To find out why she lied, to find out what she plans to do— and then end this.

 _If that eyeball freak still doesn't let me into that room, then he's got another thing comin'..._

 _It's time to face Ray... and get answers._


	15. The Bond We Share

When Zack tries the door downstairs again, it opens without a hint of resistance— now unlocked.

He steps into the large living room, scythe ready in case Danny tries to surprise attack him. The doctor is nowhere to be found, however; completely missing.

He's not what matters right now, though.

Taking slow steps toward where Ray lies still unconscious, he glances down at the mangled, meshed-together corpse of her parents, crumpled in a heap on the floor. The rough stitch lines running over their arms, faces and sides fills him with nausea, especially knowing what he does.

 _'Not half bad at sewing', eh? Christ..._

Coming to a stop at Ray's side, he gazes at her. Right now, her doll-like face is serene, as expressionless as usual yet in a more natural way. Those strange blue eyes of hers are closed, but he's thinkin' she's slept long enough.

Reaching out, he shakes her shoulder, roughly barking at her when she doesn't rise right away.

"Hey, wake up. You've had enough shut eye! Get yer ass up!"

She groggily opens her eyes and blearily looks up at him, her brows contorting in confusion.

"...Zack?"

Hastily sitting up and brushing her tangled hair out of her face, Ray blinks at him, seeming surprised. She takes note of his face, and her own falls.

"I'm so sorry," she tells him regretfully. "And I was so sure I wouldn't drag you down, too..."

"Shut up," he replies harshly, and she jumps. "None of that shit matters."

She grows even more bewildered by his no-nonsense tone, but right now he doesn't give a damn. He doesn't want to have to ask her what her true intentions are, or why she lied. This goes against everything he's known— stab first, ask questions later. That's been his whole life... and here she's come to break down everything he's built up so strongly.

"Listen to me... Ray," he says, meeting her eyes levelly without flinching. "I need you to answer me. The people who come to this floor..."

The words feel leaden as they roll across his tongue.

"...Are you gonna kill 'em?"

Those blue orbs widen, before suddenly growing darker. A shadow falls over her expression, and she seems at a loss for words. When she remains silent, he grows even more impatient with her, taking a step forward menacingly.

He's had enough of being toyed with.

"Hey! Explain yourself!" he growls.

Before he can shake the living daylights out of her for answers, a gunshot rings out, narrowly whizzing by his nose. He jumps backward, scythe swinging in his hands as he whirls to see who fucking tried to kill him just now.

"Can you stop getting rough with Rachel, Zack?"

Danny emerges from the shadows from the direction of the kitchen door, making his way behind the couch where Ray sits lifelessly, and Zack feels alarm bells go off in his head. He's too fucking close to her for his own good.

"Watch out!" he yells at her, but Danny fires another shot, this time skimming a line along the side of the boy's hoodie.

"Back off," the doctor tells him, that creepy-as-hell red and green eye of his seeming pinned on him.

The blood-stained physician continues rounding the couch to stand behind Ray's head, adjusting his skewed glasses carefully. He's still sporting a cut lip and seems a tad sluggish, which must be why he's hiding behind that stupid gun in his hand.

"What a simpleton you are... it's _repulsive_ ," Danny sneers.

"Doctor Danny..." Ray mumbles quietly, her voice changed hollow and crisp.

"Why good morning, Rachel!" he exclaims, glancing down at her and winking at her in mock-friendliness. "...I took the liberty of bringing Zack up to speed on everything about you."

Something flashes across her usually painted features, something akin to pain. She swallows, growing dimmer.

"...Oh my..."

" _Oh_ , those turbid peepers," Danny gushes over her, loving the way her irises dull with his words. "It feels as if they could envelop me at any moment."

Zack tenses up, not liking the way she's starting to act. If something wasn't up before, it sure as hell is now.

"What the hell's goin' on?" he demands. "...Am I gonna be killed by you since I'm on your floor?"

"No," she answers shortly. "Never."

"Now, Rachel..." Danny pipes in warningly, resting a hand on the back of the couch and eying Zack with a stupid, smug grin on his face. "You mustn't _lie_."

He raises the gun and points it at the serial killer, the barrel of the silver weapon trained on his head.

"Don't misunderstand me; I don't wish to put a bullet through your head," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey!" Zack protests angrily, trying to get Ray's attention, which riles the doctor.

" _Silence!_ " he yells in outrage, cocking the gun. " _Will you give it a rest?! Didn't I say I'm as desperate as you?!_ I _must_ make her understand that! Besides, a low-life monster like yourself must be dying to know as well!"

His grin turns sinister, and the tip of the gun lowers to lightly tap against her blonde locks.

"Rachel killed her parents in seeking her perfect family," he states. "I was assigned to be her therapist. It was then I insisted she be made a resident here on this floor. ...Well, although the reverend didn't seem very taken with the idea, I was convinced everything would be fine. Most of all, her peepers... I longed to protect her eternal solitude at any cost... But her spirit was _shattered._ "

His mouth twists into a grimace, and he gestures toward the book lying near Zack's feet.

"Before I knew it, she was reading a Bible placed in this room... right? Naturally, the reverend wouldn't allow me to assign someone like her as a floor guardian." The gun wavers over her head. "Tell me, Rachel... How could a calm and collected person like yourself become so corrupted...?"

She doesn't flinch at the feeling of the gun against her head. Ray is staring off into the shadows, past Zack. Her eyes are so cold, it gives him the shivers.

"...I wanted to achieve my own ideal," she murmurs. "I couldn't accept anything other than that. But... the Bible told me... that it was _me_ who would not be accepted."

Her words thunder down around Zack, so emotionless as she talks that it makes him want to grab her by the shoulders and force some semblance of humanity back into her. But the way she's gazing into nothingness freaks him out.

Danny laughs, the opposite of the noiret, seeming pleased by her answer. "And so... You tried to _die,_ assuming the guise of someone normal, pure and innocent! And Zack— Rachel was convinced she would get away with it with _your_ help! A _fool_ who swore an oath to God, and to top it all off, became the very thing for her that you swore to!"

The scythe feels like an ice-cold stick in Zack's hands, his palms slick with sweat that makes his bandages all the more restrictive. Fuck this prissy smug _bastard._

"...But, Rachel," the doctor continues lightly, keeping his smile plastered over his busted lips. "You already knew... didn't you? No matter how much one reads the Bible, or realizes one's mistakes... One can never deceive one's true self!"

She doesn't answer. Zack finds himself trained on her, his bi-colored eyes fixated on her dark face. That fucked up doctor keeps on going, like it's his pleasure in unleashing his words on her.

"Somewhere in that heart of yours, you secretly wished to own Zack, did you not?!" he shouts out, his gun waving with his own frantic movements. "Ohh, how _wonderfully horrible_!"

This time he's earned the wrath of Zack's scythe. But as he takes a single step forward threateningly, a gunshot goes off, whizzing past his ear and leaving it ringing. He growls but stays put, as Danny glowers over him with that godforsaken smile.

"Well, Zack; you've come to a crossroads," he murmurs with amusement, that weird as hell eye swishing back and forth merrily. "Die here, or climb down from your exalted altar as Ray's God and leave here alone. What shall it be? The truth can no longer be undone. Rachel can no longer return, and must stay here. She has effectively _deceived_ you."

He doesn't fucking get it.

Listening to this smug asshat, taking in those acid-laced words of his— his first instinct is to shove a sharp piece of metal through his throat. But unlike his usual response, he can't muster his will enough to attack. He's left gazing at Ray, searching her expression, trying to find something to tell him that crazy physician's a damned liar.

Ray... He hates himself for thinking about it, but he had started to trust her somehow. For a single moment in his life, he'd given her the benefit of the doubt. She desired death so much that he knew she'd follow after him like a puppy, but the way they watched out for each other was so much more than that.

But with this realization that she's the owner of the floor, he doesn't know what to believe anymore, and it rips apart his resolve and his own decision like soggy paper. If she really is after his life, then he really will have to kill her.

...God _damn_ it.

"...Ray."

His voice leaves his chapped lips quietly, calm despite his inner turmoil.

"...Is what Danny's sayin' true?"

Her head lifts a little, and he's faced with those creepy, lifeless eyes again. Yet the sparks of life he'd begun to see before aren't there, the little glimpses of Ray's real self are hidden from him. It's just this dead doll of a person, staring into him like she can see through his soul.

"...Yes," she says softly, her voice not rising or dropping at all with emotion, but firm and stately. "That's right, Zack."

His throat is suddenly dry, his mouth refusing to function. He licks his lips, trying to ease his own inability to speak.

"So you lied to me, huh?" he says venomously, a sinking feeling entering his chest.

"I did, Zack..." she goes on, nodding just barely. "Zack, will... you still... be my God?"

There's that request again. This time it's tinged in desperation, but right now, he's too fucking ticked off to care.

This stupid _idiot_...

"...You wanna entrust yourself to me?" he inquires.

 _Give yourself over to me like some sacrificial lamb? Be my pet? Claim me like I'm some kinda property of yours?_

Zack straightens up, getting to his feet. His scythe dangles in his fingers, but he doesn't back down as he faces up to the girl before him.

"I'm... I'm not some _God_ of yours."

Those words, spit out like acid in his mouth, make something awful flicker over her features. She goes quiet, while Danny lowers his gun, his irritating grin blinding.

"Wonderful! Couldn't have said it better myself!" he declares.

He leans in close to Ray, whispering in her ear cockily.

"Well, Rachel... you've returned to your usual self now! Tell me what it is you desire; I'll make it come true! Oh—" He lifts his head, winking at Zack playfully and waving a hand dismissively. "—and Zack, feel free to run along."

The hooded killer seethes at the fucker, hissing between his teeth. "... _Selfish bastard._ Don't tell me what to do."

"...Wait."

Both men's eyes are drawn to Ray. She slips off the couch, her tiny feet steady against the ruined carpet.

Danny raises a brow. "Rachel...?"

She looks up at Zack, who finds words difficult to manage when she meets his gaze. Her shell-shaped lips move, though, creating things he doesn't want to hear.

"I've committed a foul sin, that much I know," she tells him, her voice now wavering uncertainly. "But it was no use... just knowing it was a sin. Though why that's bad, I just can't figure out. ...Is it futile, Zack? Am I wrong? Are you not _my God_ , Zack?"

Her expression has become twisted, filled with unreadable emotions now, yet her eyes are as dead as a fish's. Before he's even realized she's moved, she's lifted her arm, raising a familiar metallic object up and aiming it at him.

The gun. Her gun from before, the one she'd shot Cathy with. She's got him in her sights, with this weak, deranged smile pasted across her fragile face.

"But, I _need_ one, Zack," she breathes in a harsh laugh. "I _need_ a God."

She pulls the trigger on him. he barely has time to jump out of the way of the bullet, feeling it breeze past him. The harsh, traitorous feeling creeps up on him as he rolls over and catches himself, rising back up as she follows his every move, coming after him slowly.

"Ray!"

This isn't the Ray he knows. The Ray he'd travelled the last floors with and this person... this girl standing in front of him, looking at him like a piece of meat on a hook for her to capture, with that gun in her hand and that fucking creepy grin...

This isn't Ray. This is a stranger— another screwed up psychopath.

...It's true, but for some reason he can't admit it to himself no matter how he looks at her.

"Oh, Rachel!" Danny fawns over her from the couch, awe written over his features. "That's the very instant your peepers are the most beautiful! Zack, I'm afraid I'll have to retract my offer to let you go!"

He turns on the younger man, his tongue lolling between his lips disgustingly.

"Now my top priority is her wishes!"

Gripping his weapon tightly in hand, Zack's injuries burn like hell under his wrappings, but he stares down Ray. He meets her gaze, waiting for her to attempt to shoot him again. But for some reason she doesn't, simply gazing at him through those shadowed eyes of hers.

Then, without warning, she turns tail and runs off, towards the kitchen. The door slams closed behind her, leaving Zack alone in the room with Danny.

"Well, your only option now is to go after her, even if it could mean your _death_ , Zack!" he chuckles lowly, illuminated in that fake moon's light. "To fulfill her wishes, I shall become her servant!"

He suddenly pulls the same stunt, disappearing into the shadows, his footsteps hastily running off in the same direction. Zack's left alone, confusion and bewilderment ripping through him in harsh waves.

She shot at him. She intended to kill him.

That little bitch... That stupid moron...!

...He has to go after her!

" _Aaaaaaahhhh!_ Shit, _wait!_ "

Without even thinking it through, he flies after her, his steps pounding the wooden floor. He slams open the kitchen door in time to see her shadow entering that bathroom from before. He sails around the corner, tossing open that door too in his haste to get to her.

When he walks inside, she's nowhere to be found. She's not standing around inside, clearly hiding somewhere.

 _Where the hell is she?_

He starts searching for her, tossing open cabinets and checking behind things. The tub, now filled to the brim again, draws his interest. The memory of being bitten by those ugly little pests in the bottom leaves him grimacing.

 _Hey, what's this doin' filled up with water again?_

A creeping thought enters his mind, and he frowns down at it. It can't be, but...

 _Don't tell me— that she's_ _in_ _here...!_

Just to test that theory, he shoves his hands into the depths of the murky blue liquid— before a harsh, sharp jolt races up his arms and throughout his body, violently shaking him until he yanks himself out, his brain momentarily fried by the electric current. He lets out a yelp of pain that fills the room.

"For fuck's sake!" he spits out, wincing.

Something clicks nearby. Out of the washer in the corner, Ray's small form slips out, turning to appraise him with a knowing expression. Her eyes barely seem to change at all.

"I had a feeling this wouldn't work on you, Zack," she notes, as if expecting the outcome.

Trying to shake off the residual ache in his body, he flashes her a glare. Before he can utter a word, she's bolted out the door again like a scared rabbit, leaving him muttering in irritation.

If she'd just slow down for _one_ hot minute...!

 _That bitch...! Thought I told her to wait up!_

He busts out of the bathroom again, and catches sight of her in the corner of the kitchen by the immaculate fridge. He's just in time to see her lowering a small red candle to her feet— before kicking it across the destroyed table and allowing the flames to easily catch and spread across the dry surfaces, enveloping the remnants with frightening quickness.

He jumps backwards, immediately caught up in the sight of the fire. The very sight of it fills him with nausea and fear, and it takes a second for him to snap back from recoiling. He hasn't expected her to do something like that, but it annoys him to hell and back.

 _...Fuck! That scared the shit outta me!_

"...Playin' with fire, huh...?!" he growls, pinpointing her with his multicolored stare. "I'll head you off and get you...!"

He rounds the table and comes toward her slowly, pausing by the stove to face off with her. She's just standing there, watching him silently.

"Hey, cut it out!" he demands.

"Three..." she murmurs, stepping back from him. "Two..."

He blinks at her, unable to register her words.

"...Huh?"

She doesn't flinch. "...One."

There's a brilliant explosion right by his side, sending searing pain over his entire form. He goes rolling across the floor, left in an aching, agonizing heap on the ground for a moment as he regains his bearings. The scent of charred skin and burning paint fills his nostrils. The impact leaves his brain scrambled, and he tries to collect his thoughts quick while he still can.

"...Shit...!" he hisses between his teeth.

"Ohh, wow," she says, somehow aweful. "This won't work either. But... you really _do_ hate fire, don't you?"

Zack painstakingly forces himself up into a rattly heap, his joints begging for relief. he's gotten a hell of a battering lately, no thanks to her. But now he's fired up and angry as hell, and adrenaline is pumping like mad.

She's already run up the stairs before he's gotten up to his feet, and he cracks his neck, the harsh snap echoing out. The wall is covered in soot stains, and the oven is in pieces from the explosion. A normal person would've died in something like that, but he's still alive and kickin'.

...And now, he's got a fuckin' score to settle. Ray or not, no one gets away with this bullshit.

 _I'll get that bitch, Ray!_

"...I'll fuck you up!" he yells, pissed.

His steps stomp up the stairs after her, rounding the corner. He spies her fleeing self making a run for one of the rooms down the hall, and he narrows his eyes.

 _Did she run away to her room?_

He kicks off after her, whirling around the hallway and starting toward her room. But the moment he enters the main hall, something clangs behind him, and there's a loud crash and the rumble of stone crumbling under weight.

He spins around, and his eyes go wide as a fucking giant boulder smashes apart the wall of the house, rolling down after him. He can't wrap his head around it, but he doesn't have time to contemplate the hows and whys.

"Hey, wait— what the fuck-?!"

With a heave, he tosses himself forward and into Ray's doorway just in time to save himself the horrifying fate of being flattened into a Zackcake. The huge ass rock merrily goes down until it meets the end of the hall, where it crashes into the wall and finally comes to a stop.

Zack, breathing like he's just run a goddamn marathon, peers around the corner at it in utter shock.

 _...What the hell?! That was too much crazy for me!_

"Cut it out, don't fuck with me!" he shouts out. "Remember that, you idiot!"

 _That honestly was gonna crush me flat, fuckin' Christ..._

 _Ray's really tryin' to off me right now._

 _...Fuck._

Trying to stave off his own apprehension, Zack pushes open her door, re-entering the silent room he'd been in before, where'd he'd learned of her past. She's waiting for him inside, patiently standing across the room on the other side of the massacred TV.

Taking careful steps forward, Zack grips hard to his scythe, his movements quieted by her ruined carpet. He moves over the bloodstain and comes to a stop a few feet in front of her.

"...Hey," he says, placing a hand on his hip. "How long you plannin' to keep runnin'?"

Instead of answering, the blonde girl raises her hand again, her gun tightly wrapped between her tiny fingers. She leaves it aimed his direction, unwavering. He simply sneers at it this time.

"...Are you gonna shoot me?" he taunts, a halfhearted smile on his face.

She's wide-eyed, psychotic, yet still impassive when she replies.

"Will that kill you?"

He bristles at the comment, but holds his ground. He runs his tongue across his teeth, tsking under his breath.

"...If you're gonna kill me, then how's about I kill you first?" he edgily replies.

She pauses, before slowly lowering the gun to her side. Her face falls.

"...It can't be that way now," she whispers. "Zack... It was useless from the very start. Even now... my soul's telling me that I gotta die. I gotta be killed."

Something deep, deep within those sapphire blue orbs of hers flashes through the darkness. She nibbles her bottom lip, and her brows crease.

"But God would never desire an abomination like me. He has no use for me." She turns her head, glancing toward the broken TV. "And it was you, Zack, who swore to God that you would kill me. But once I learned that God didn't exist... I made _you_ my God, Zack."

'God' this, 'God' that... he's sick and tired of hearing that word, of hearing it pass through her lips, and with that fucking painful tone of hers.

He steps forward, pressing a hand against his chest and gripping his hoodie.

"...Ray, _listen to me!_ How many times do I gotta say this? I _ain't_ your God!"

Shit, even _he_ sounds pitiful now. It's like he's trying to plead with her, or reason with her.

...Or maybe, that really _is_ what he's trying to do. Fuck, what the hell has happened to him lately...?

She glances back at him, before lifting the gun again his direction. "Yes, I'm aware, Zack."

He grips his scythe, readying himself for a fight even though it's like his body wills against it.

"What're you aware of?" he challenges.

To his surprise, she turns around, tilting the gun toward the window where that fake moon shines light in on them. Her blue eyes, in the dull illumination, seem... sad.

"My lie's been exposed," she mumbles.

A gunshot rings out. He prepares for some kind of pain, but instead hears the tumultuous sound of breaking glass. The moon's light goes out as the window falls apart into jagged shards on the floor, and she turns back to him. Her lips curl into a shaky grin, and a heartless laugh passes her throat.

"My God... is _dead_ ," she chokes as the darkness invades from all over the room, the shadows enveloping them.

He frantically searches for her figure in the dark, trying to locate her. Why he can't stop caring about her, or why seeing her expression like that feels like a hole's being torn through his chest isn't something he can explain.

He's changed— because of her, probably. And he still doesn't know if that's good or bad.

"Hey, wait!" he yells into the shadows.

Her darting footsteps run past him, and he feels the breeze of her passing nearby, just inches away. He knows he could swing at her and not miss in that split second timeframe... but he doesn't move.

The door slams shut behind her, and his eyes adjust to the darkness a little better, enough for him to see she's no longer around. But inside, he's beating himself down hard.

 _...Dammit! She won't listen to what I've gotta say, and just says her piece and runs off on her own..._

 _I need to tell her. I need to get her to listen._

Something unlike most things he'd ever say is coalescing in the pit of his stomach. But knowing her, and what she's thinking now... Even knowing she lied, and is trying to kill him...

Though he can't put it into words, he can't just let this slide. He won't let her get off the hook like this, and he _won't..._

... _abandon_ her.

 **.x.X.x.**

Her heart is filled with emptiness.

Gazing upon the place her parents once rested, Ray stands facing the large glowing moon at the back of the living room, the illumination enhancing the blood spatter against the white couch. Though their bodies have been tossed aside by Zack, she can still see them the way she'd left them.

Smiling. Happy. Hand in hand, leaning against one another... Finally at peace. Spending days with them became one of her most cherished memories. The perfect parents she'd created were by far the most wonderful she's ever come to know. The playtimes with them, and her precious puppy... The family she wished for, once upon a time.

...Now, it's all gone. Nothing will ever be the same again, and the one person that would complete her family... her own God, despises her. He loathes her, throws his title away like it's meaningless. It's all her own fault, really.

She needs Zack, but now she's destroyed it all. He hates liars... and she's the biggest one he came across. Even thinking about it makes her chest ache like it hasn't in a long while. Now, all she's left with is a feeling of cold solidarity, of resignation.

It will all be over. Either she'll kill him, or he'll kill her, but it will end... But it's not the way she wished for.

Instead of wanting to make him her own, the feeling is so foreign... it's not like what she felt stitching together her parents, or making her puppy smile. It's a sense of desperation, of _necessity_ , as if...

...As if, if she doesn't make him ' _hers_ ', he won't stay with her.

Zack's footsteps coming her way draws her attention, and Ray's sullen eyes look toward the hooded boy. Even through his bandages, she can see the firm look on his face, the taut line of his jaw and his frown. HIs scythe gleams in the light, the sharp discolored edge a rusted orange in contrast.

He doesn't raise it toward her however, simply gazing at her. His normally violent, wild eyes are a strange kind of calm, the bi-colored orbs gazing into her so intensely it takes her breath away.

She wants to see this side of him more, but at the same time, it scares her.

"...All you ever do is run away," he states aloud after a moment of pregnant silence.

Ray can't muster a response, simply meeting his gaze levelly. She can see the irritation, the frustration with her evident.

"... _Say_ somethin'," Zack presses her, searching her expression.

 _All I ever do... is run away._

 _He's... right._

She wants to tell him everything. Knowing that he's fully aware of her past, of how broken she really is, of what a sinful and horrible creature she's become, is so painful it makes it hard to breathe.

What he thinks of her means _everything,_ but it's like she can't speak. She can only gaze at him, her eyes left emotionless and dull.

Dull, and empty... like herself.

"Can't you take a hint that she has nothing left to say to you?"

She hadn't realized until too late that the doctor has snuck up on Zack. The gun cocks behind his head, held tightly in the quivering grip of the ecstatic physician.

Danny's grin is wide, filled to the brim with pleasure as he glares at the back of Zack's head. Zack himself growls out a curse under his breath, growing stiff.

"That was unlike you," Danny comments. "Leaving yourself open like that."

"...You bastard!" Zack hisses.

" _Don't_ move; or you're dead," the doctor quips merrily, before gazing over the boy's shoulder at her with a longing glance.

"Rachel... what took you so long? That's not like you. Hmm, well... a _monster_ like this would probably slow anybody down. But no need to worry now. Even _he_ can't survive a shot to the head," he winks.

Zack lets out a petulant sound, anxiety written over his features as he fights the urge to look back at his assailant.

Ray stares at the two men before her, and the once suppressed feelings she'd misplaced come back to the surface.

Seeing them like that, and seeing Danny pointing his gun at Zack...

... _No. That's not how this is supposed to be._

Her own hand raises, her mother's gun poised between her fingertips with the trigger lightly pressured. Her actions cause a laugh to erupt from her therapist's throat, a pleasured, maniacal noise. Zack's eyes grow wide at her, but become even bigger when she tilts the aim of it— past him.

Over his shoulder... to the person behind him.

"I'm sorry..." she murmurs. "...Doctor."

Danny has no time to react. She presses the trigger, and the gunshot rings out loud in the quiet living room. The doctor staggers backwards from Zack, the gun wavering in his palm as a crimson rose blooms across his chest.

"...Rachel...?" he breathes, his voice growing wispy. He confused empty hand clutches at the bullet hole etched in his torso, disbelieving the blood pouring through his fingers. Zack turns on him, whipping out his scythe to fight back, but Danny's already fallen to his knees, his eyes drilling into her.

"Rachel..."

"Dr Danny..." she says loftily, feeling the sting of recoil racing through her arm— a now all-too-familiar ache. "...Zack's _mine_ to kill."

The misshapen, odd false eye of his trains on her, and his expression grows pained as he darkens, a sharp chuckle leaving his lips.

"...Ahh. Is that so...? That makes sense."

"Besides," she continues, closing her eyes for a moment and then looking to Zack. "I'm too tired to go on. I wanna finish this."

Her chest... aches so much, more than her arm or her injuries from the past floors. A dull, throbbing feeling that can't stop, no matter how she tries to fix it.

"I'm sorry, Dr Danny," Ray whispers, her expression mirroring his with a pain she can hardly express. "I can't live with you."

Her words hit him like an oncoming semi. HIs face falls immediately, and the gun drops from his hand, clattering down on the carpet in front of him. His head bows with grief, and he wails in a voice almost inhuman.

"No... _No... Nooo!_ " he cries out, hoarse and agonizing, before he falls forward and collapses against the bloodred carpet, his life staining and mixing with the already ruined rug.

Zack takes a confused step back, before whirling on her. Meeting his eyes, she offers him a small smile.

It's... all over, now.

There's... nothing left.

The ache thuds within her chest, pounding throughout her ribcage rhymically and growing ever harder to ignore. If she were in control again, or if she could understand it herself, it would hurt her so much she'd cry out for it to stop.

She's never felt like this before. And she knows... it's because of Zack.

Now, he'll kill her— and it will all end.

"I've already killed and created a family," she tells him softly, the smile etched over her face roughly, as if cut into her lips with a knife. "So I won't be forgiven anyway. It's... over. I don't care even if it's not my God. It doesn't matter anymore."

To die, and be released from this hell. Or to die, and be punished for eternity.

...To die, and to be enveloped in the end.

But before that, there is one thing she cannot be without.

"But, Zack... Lastly, I want to make you mine by my own hands," she tells him.

He flinches, but there's no surprise on his face anymore when she speaks. Instead, he meets her head on, just like always— overconfident, and ready for what she brings him, yet urging her on just the same. There's no malice when he responds.

"...If you want it so bad, then do it."

Her eyes widen as he moves toward her, coming to stand in front of her. HIs height towers over her, and she finds herself staring up into his dark face. Those black locks she'd thought of touching in his sleep, and the bandaged face she's come to trust in and become familiar with... it stares back at her so solemn and determined. It leaves her breathless as he speaks.

"You want to die..." Zack says slowly, those bi-colored eyes never leaving hers. "You want me dead... You want to _end_ this? Which is it? None of what you're saying makes a bit of sense!"

He's harsh with her, and her brows crease. The gun in front of her quivers unwittingly, and she cries out.

"I... know that!"

"Well then... quit sayin' such stupid shit!" he demands.

It's such a silly, Zack-like thing to say that it takes her off guard. Her smile grows even more twisted, and she shakes her head, her heart in her throat.

"...I don't mean to! I'm dead serious!" she whimpers, not nearly as strong as she wants to be. Her expression crumples into a frown. "I'm serious about killing you...!"

A halfhearted, mirthless smile flickers over his face. "...Is that so?"

He moves forward, knocking the gun from her palm and shoving her to the floor. Her back hits the dirtied, aged rug, and before she can get to her feet or reach for the weapon, the sharp, cool steel of his blade presses down against her neck unyieldingly.

He's straddling her waist, the scythe gripped in his hands and poised to finish her in one smooth movement if she dare squirm. Yet she's caught up in his eyes— full of darkness, and yet with a hidden spark that burns into her so strongly she can't find her will to fight back.

"Killed by a pint-sized squirt like you? Pfft. Not happenin'," he smirks.

Her entire body grows rigid.

 _No... This can't be. This can't be how this ends._

"No..." she chokes. "No... Zack..."

"If you want it to end so bad, then I'll end it!" he heatedly declares, and the blade presses closer to her skin, barely nicking her.

Panic fills her whole form, racking her with fear.

 _No! This isn't right! It can't happen like this!_

"No!" She cries. " _No, nooo!"_

"What's the problem?" he urges her, staring down at her. "I'd be grantin' your wish!"

Granting her wish...

...No. This isn't what she wants.

 _I have wanted to die, and yet, presented with this chance..._

 _It's not what I want. It's not the way I want to die!_

"Don't kill me!" The voice that pleads with him sounds nothing like her, filled to the brim with pain and despair. "Not like this... don't kill me!"

His expression contorts with confusion, mixing with so many emotions she can't even begin to comprehend them all.

"Huuuh?!"

"It's just— that you are no longer my God! I..." A forced smile finds its way across her lips again. She doesn't know what she's saying.

She needed a God, but without Zack to be hers... what's the point anymore? Even her own death feels so pointless.

"I... no longer have any need for my own God!" she tells him hoarsely. "My God is dead!"

Zack's face above hers grows sober, and he acknowledges something to himself. The blade grows firmer against her, and he shouts out above her.

"...Oh, that's right. I killed your God! _I_ killed it!"

"Aahh-!" she cries, her eyes closing reflexively, afraid of what will come to pass.

He killed it. He killed her God, shattered her image of him, of that deity she put so much faith in. The person she idolized is nothing more than her own illusion, and she wrongfully placed her trust in that which never existed.

Zack murdered the picture she held so dear, and now he'll kill her— an act she deserves, but one she can't bring herself to accept.

For a moment, nothing happens. Until his voice, a bit quieter, speaks again.

"...But _I'm_ not dead. Do you catch my drift...?"

Confused, her eyes peek open to look at him, meeting those intense ocher and brown orbs of his. He's glaring at her, but there's something else in that gaze, something she can't place but steals away her ability to think, and makes her heart skip beats.

" _Who_ said they'd kill you?!" he demands.

Who told her they would kill her? That person...

"...My God!" she whimpers, but the harsh pressure of his scythe is followed by his own outburst.

" _No_!" he scolds her sharply.

The scythe whips back, and she shuts her eyes tightly, waiting for the punishing blow. There's a rush of air by her face, and something metallic slicing into the floor by her head.

When she risks another look, she finds Zack's face all too close to hers. His scythe is embedded near her hair, having cut away a few strands. He's leaning in closer, and he leaves no room for getting away or avoiding his colorful eyes.

"— _Me_ ," he replies firmly. "It was _me._ Not someone else, or your God."

Her heart is beating so fast, she doesn't know what to do. She can only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"... _I_ will kill you!" he forcefully announces.

 _Zack, I... I don't understand._

His actions, his words, his proximity to her leaves her head spinning. She doesn't understand how he can say these things, or even bother to be near her.

She's corrupted, a sinful liar. Why?

"But, I..." she barely whispers. "That can't be. I'm defiled."

He snickers under his breath, rolling his eyes before pinning her down with those orbs again.

"...Who do you think you're talkin' to here? I'm a _killer_. Killing's my passion; I've killed more than I can count. But... I'd never run around all psychotically like you and Danny. I don't give a shit about your parents, or God... But there's _no_ reason to go around makin' them excuses for your actions!"

Zack's voice bellows out, enveloping her in the power in his words. He is unrelenting, authoritative, strong. So unlike her.

"I, for one, set my heart on what I want and act on my own volition...! If I'm my own man..." His hands grow tight around the handle of his scythe.

"...Then you're your own woman, right!? Am I wrong?!"

Her face twists in bewilderment, trying to process what he's trying to tell her.

"I'm...my own woman?"

"Atta girl!" he says proudly, not letting up even for a second.

His voice cuts away all of her doubt, slicing apart her inhibitions, her fear, her shock, her despair. It cuts down into her heart, creating its place in her soul.

"If you're your own woman, then grab life by the balls!" He yells out. "Take _control_ , dammit!"

She can't form words, blubbering through her lips, unable to make coherent sounds to reply. She's left so confused, so caught up in what he's forcing her to realize that it attacks the very core of her being.

She's her own woman?

Take... control?

Zack's telling her that... she's her own woman...?

And... he's his own man...?

"...Hey, Ray."

Her wild, chaotic blue eyes meet his, and she's lost in the depths of his gaze. He's smiling at her this time, that familiar curve of his mouth that somehow makes her happy and brings her a sense of ease.

"...You see me?" he asks her gently.

"...Who am I?"

It hits her then. With that one sentence, with his face above hers and that look on his face— it hits her so hard that she's left staring at him, the emotions returning to the surface where she'd thought they'd been shut away forever.

His figure, illuminated in the moon's light, casting his shadow over her prone form. Yet she sees him, kneeling over her— trying desperately to get her to see what's right in front of her face.

And now... she understands. She sees not just the broken illusion of her God, the mangled role model she'd tried to mold into her idol. Those pieces are erased, leaving only the raw sight of the boy before her who chose to make her see the truth.

"... _Zack_ ," she finally manages to respond.

"Yup," he nods his head, growing a little brighter at her change. "And not some God, right?"

 _No. Not some God, and not 'my' God._

 _This person... is Zack. And he... isn't God._

"...Yeah," she barely replies. "You were... Zack all along..."

All this time, it's like a veil was over her vision. She saw _him_ , but she saw _through_ him. She only saw her own projected broken dreams and the last thread of truth she had left, the vision of a perfect God. What she didn't realize is that it was, all along, just... Zack. This person who promised to kill her, not just because it was his duty or because she desired it... but because of the oath they made, the bond they share.

Her expression makes him let out a nervous chuckle, glancing away.

"Hey, you're too damn serious for a crazy bitch," he smirks, before growing serious himself. His eyes flicker back to her.

"Hey, Ray. Look who's in front of you; _me_. If you can grasp that concept..."

He takes a moment, as if considering what he's about to say. For a moment, it almost looks like he becomes a bit red, but without warning, he forces out a strong declaration. He's unyielding, authoritative, bold— and she can do nothing except gaze upon him in wonder.

"Ray!" he urges. " _Desire_ me!"

She blinks at him in shock, yet he continues on, forging ahead on his own path as if widening the road for her to pass as well. He doesn't waver, he doesn't flinch from his own words. His utter confidence, his strong will and determination, pulls her along in his tidal wave. He yanks the scythe out of the ground, moving it aside so that nothing bars them. It's her, and him, gazing unhindered at one another; and he gets his words across to her.

"If you want to die... Swear an oath for me to kill you! Swear it for yourself— and swear it for _me_!"

His smile is blinding, like the sun rising over to erase the shadows of dusk. He lights up this world, this very room— and something lifts inside her, like a dam finally cracking apart and breaking.

After all this time, she understands. She understands what she feels, what he is, what they are, and how important he is to her. This person who is the polar opposite of her, yet is so similar... He is everything.

Their oath, which she thought was only special to her, she now realizes is important for him as well. It's a two way street, a two-sided bond between them that they share. His vow to kill her... She promised him that she would let him kill her, as well.

Ray... didn't know that it meant that much to him. That she... their bond... was so important.

She doesn't know what to say. She hasn't felt like this in so long... It's like a river, pouring forth suddenly through her bloodstream. Her dedication to him, her loyalty, her trust. Amongst them, emotions that have been locked away are now free, given reign thanks to his awakening her.

No longer can she ignore her own feelings.

Gazing at him, she feels her cheeks grow hot, and her sight becomes blurry. His face is hard to discern as the stinging behind her eyelids becomes too much to bear.

The answer is on her lips, already waiting for her— as if she knew from the beginning exactly what to say.

A tear rolls down her cheek, and then more— before even she's realized, the hot droplets are flooding over his skin, creating salty trails down her pale face for the first time in forever. Her words are nearly lost as the lump in her throat makes speaking a trial nearly impossible to overcome.

"...Okay..." she hoarsely whispers, before repeating it in a stronger tone, the weeping overcoming her. "...Okay! I swear it...!"

"... _I swear to you, Zack...!_ "

Through the waves of tears, she watches a smile spread across his face. It's a sight that burns itself into her memory forever.

"And I... swear right back at you!" he says, grinning wide.

His renewal of their promise, and the refreshed, relieving feeling of being _herself_ as well as being with Zack overwhelms her. Her sobs break open, loud and unhindered by her inhibitions, and she finds herself enveloped in some kind of warmth. She barely manages to realize that Zack's hoodie is muffling her cries, his warmth providing her comfort in his own awkward way, his arms keeping her caged in a skewed embrace.

His presence and small gesture is enough. Ray buries herself in it, finally allowed to let out her sorrow in the battered chest of his hoodie...

...and he quietly lets her cry, the ticking of a clock the only sound to disturb the moment of peace.

 **.x.X.x.**

Some time later, after Ray's managed to get ahold of herself, Zack's taken back his old distance. He was kind enough to give her some space to compose herself, but he snickers under his breath, raising a brow.

"...Hey, how long you gonna sniffle like that for?" he inquires, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

Ray, a little embarrassed, quickly swipes her nose on the edge of her sleeve to try and stop the persistent whistle-like noises.

"But my nose is running by itself..."

"You dumbshit. There's no need to say that." He makes a face at her, before offering a smile. "Our plan is to get outta here, so do somethin' about it, will you?"

The smile of hers comes easily now, and she nods. "...Okay."

 _I'll do anything you ask. We're getting out... together, after all._

Suddenly he raises a hand, looking perturbed by something.

"Hold it— ain't this your floor?" he questions. "You know the way out?"

Ray nibbles the inside of her cheek. Though she wants to be helpful, unfortunately most of what occurred during her move to this place is hazy and blurred.

"...To tell you the truth, I have no memory of going above here," she admits reluctantly.

"Wha-?" Disappointed, he slaps his palm across his forehead. "Gimme a fuckin' _break._ "

"I wasn't paying attention... But there's a foyer in this living room," she says, hoping that she might remember something that can help them. She points off to the corner of the room, where the door to the unexplored rom lies. It blends with the wallpaper, not quite visible at first.

He follows her gaze, and places a hand on his hip.

"Well then, let's go check out this foyer first."

Ray nods, before finding herself looking back, toward where her parents lie. Their bodies, fallen on top of each other, look so strange to her now. As if they aren't the same people that she'd sewn together.

Noticing where her attention has gone, Zack's face grows sober. "...Hey, whaddaya starin' at that thing for?"

She raises a brow, glancing his way. "Aren't you gonna... ask me about it?"

He shakes his head. "At this point, it's too late for me to start sweatin' details about all the corpses in this building."

Ray blinks. "...And that's that?"

 _I guess I expected him to... question me more about them. About why I did what I did... or what went through my mind._

 _Maybe Zack's chosen to simply... accept it?_

"Huh?" His response brings her back to the present. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. "Well, if you want me to ask, then I can do that."

She frowns a little. "I'll uh... pass on that."

 _If I can avoid going back to that time... I will._

Near their fallen forms, she trails her gaze over to Danny's motionless frame. His blood has soaked into the rug by now, leaving it stained anew with fresh crimson compared to the dull brown.

The feeling of shooting him, at the time, felt like her only choice. Yet, even now, though she knew it was what she needed to do, there's a tinge of regret. Danny had put everything on the line for her, brought her here, tried so hard to please her... and she'd killed him. It's not that she wishes things were different; she only... pities him.

Zack doesn't miss the way she looks down at his figure.

"...Hey."

She watches him suddenly go forward, circling Danny's unmoving body. She's not sure what he's doing, and she tilts her head.

"Zack...?"

Without warning, he unleashes a flurry of kicks along the still physician's body, merciless in his assault. When he feels satisfied, he turns to her with a grin.

"Okay, he ain't goin' anywhere!" he says proudly.

Ray opens her mouth to respond, surprised by his, er... odd choice of action, but then rethinks her answer. It's an incredibly Zack-like thing to do, and it shows her exactly where her priorities lie.

Danny was a casualty, but he stood in their way. Now, he's dead, and she can't change that.

...As long as she and Zack can make it out.

"...So it seems," she finally says acceptingly.

Ray guides Zack back to the entry to the foyer. It's a cleverly placed entrance along paneling, hidden in plain sight. When they approach, he runs his bandaged fingers through his hair with a raised brow.

"...Huh? Isn't this a wall?"

"If I'm not mistake, this should be the foyer," Ray shakes her head. "Zack, give it a hard shove."

A smile cuts over his face, his teeth gleaming in the light. "Now you're talkin'!"

With a dramatic flair, Zack yanks back his scythe and slashes down against the barely visible panel. The blunt, cresting slice crashes through the thin wall and the hidden doorway falls to pieces, left in parts on the floor.

"I knew it would open," she says with a frown. "You didn't have to hack it to bits, Zack."

"Bah!" He rolls his shoulder, tossing his weapon over it casually. "It opened, so who cares."

Ray blinks at him. "...I see."

 _It opened, so that's all that matters..._

 _...Right._

The two sidestep over the splintered remnants of the entryway, but when Ray takes a good look inside, her heart drops to her feet.

It's simply an empty room, nothing more. There's a few half-empty boxes and shelves, amongst some random junk, but otherwise the room leads nowhere.

"...A dead end?" she says unhappily. "But... let's take a look around just in case."

Zack, not looking very optimistic, just shrugs in agreement. As he moves to inspect the place, she feels more and more certain with each passing second that they're not going to make much progress. Still she tries to hold onto the hope that there might be something useful or something right under their noses to push them in the right direction.

Unfortunately, all they find is quite a bit of garbage and useless objects. Inspecting the final box, Zack lets out a groan.

"Hey... not even any pay dirt to _hit._ "

"That's odd," she says, narrowing her eyes. It's been nagging at her for awhile now, but the empty, fruitless search of theirs only proves it. "Something feels off..."

He tilts his head, laying a hand against his hip. "Ain't this _your_ floor? Think of something!"

 _Think of something..._

 _What? What is there I'm missing here?_

 _What is it that we've overlooked? And why does something... not add up?_

"Let's... figure out where the exit might be," she proposes to him.

Zack paces the floor, growing agitated and wracking his brain quite a lot more than usual, she notices.

"Maybe it's somewhere we've never been," he finally comes up with, stopping beside her. "Or on this floor."

Her brows crease. "On this floor... Nah. I checked every nook and cranny besides this room when I was setting traps..."

She watches him flinch slightly, before puffing air between his lips.

"...Gotta hand it to you for that."

He starts pacing more, and she watches him for a few minutes before he gives up, ruffling his black hair irritably.

"Damn, this makes no sense...! Has anybody ever come down here from upstairs before?"

 _From upstairs?_ Besides her and Danny, she can't recall anyone ever peeking in to her floor while she was here... Not to mention the lack of anyone's presence around here. There would bound to be evidence of someone coming here.

"That can't be," she tells him. "I mean... anyone besides you would die in a trap, so we'd know."

Zack pause, tongue in cheek. "...Probably so. So nobody came down from upstairs, huh...? Yeah, somethin' sure don't make any sense!"

 _Nobody came down from upstairs?_

 _That's..._

She's starting to try and piece things together. It's just as he says; it doesn't make any sense at all. Which means... there's something they aren't seeing.

"...Strange," she says aloud. "Wait, that's _strange._ After all, Dr Danny went in and out of the building... The traps and furniture for this room were all things he bought outside."

He crosses his arms, his scythe clasped against his chest. "Huh? Whaddaya mean?"

"Give me a second, I'll think it over," she replies, already deep in thought.

Now it's her turn to burn a tread mark into the carpet. As she puts her intelligence to the test, it brings up a valid point.

 _Nobody's come down to this floor from outside, but Dr Danny came and went as he pleased... Which means..._

"...There's another way out on this floor!" she exclaims.

"Huuuh?" Zack peeks over at her, not understanding where her mind's at. "Whaddaya mean by that?"

She, however, is already three steps ahead of him. "When you came, were the other killers— Cathy and Eddie— already in this building?"

"Huh?" He shrugs again, "...Oh, _those_ weirdos. I barely spoke to 'em, since they're all freaks."

His answer is exactly what she assumed. Already, it's starting to come together, the puzzle pieces she needs to solve.

"...Just as I suspected, which means..." She swallows, the realization dawning over her face. Her eyes meet Zack's.

"...I'm the last one to come to this building."

 _In that case..._

 _If I'm the last one, and no one's come to this floor from the outside... If this is all true, then..._

"...Zack," she suddenly pipes up. "Let's go downstairs."

He stares at her, disbelieving. " _Whaaat_?"

"Downstairs," she urges, knowing her answer is the right one. It has to be. Nothing else would make sense, but if this is how it really is, then that has to be the right choice. "There may be a way out downstairs on floor B2."

"That makes no freakin' sense!" Zack argues, his frown etched over his bandaged face. he tosses a hand out in gesture. "Are you psychic or somethin'?!"

"There wasn't a need for a way out to be inside this room," she tells him quickly, trying to explain it in a way he understands. "In other words... My floor... _this_ floor, must be the very last one made. in that case... when this room was made, there was 'already a way' leading outside. You and I were surely brought in from there!"

Zack gapes at her, trying to follow along, but she forges on ahead, the words leaving her throat almost too fast for him to comprehend.

"Dr Danny, who I met outside, had this room built by the reverend later on. So I think it wasn't linked to the first floor. The fact that I've never seen anyone come downstairs is proof." It's painted itself clear in her mind, and her eyes are bright with witty thinking.

He's not as fast with the uptake, but he's dealt with her long enough to know that she's usually right about her conclusions. He licks his lips uncertainly, twirling his scythe between his fingers.

"I'm... not sure what to make of all this, but we need to go downstairs, right?" he asks.

"Right," she confirms. "Plus, I recall that the switch to go downstairs is somewhere on this floor. That should be all we need."

He doesn't need to be told twice, simply giving her a quick thumbs up.

"If you say so, then I'm game!" Zack says, showing her a winning smirk. "Let's move out!"

She can't help but return his smile. "...Okay!"

 _I'm glad... that Zack trusts me._

 _And, thankfully, I know where the switch should be. Even though my memories are hazy from the time I moved to this place, I recall it. In the basement... it should be somewhere near my music box. No... not somewhere near._ _Inside_ _it._

 _It's time to get going... and leave this place behind._

They head for the kitchen, bypassing the bloodied living room. Ray's careful to avoid glancing at her parents and Danny's fallen figure, not wanting to go too deep into the rabbit hole. Now she has an important mission in front of her, and she can't keep Zack waiting.

Reaching the horribly destructed room, she can't help the somewhat hard to remember moments she'd tried to kill Zack. The exploding stove, the piranhas in the tub, the boulder in the hall... It's a miracle anyone survived those things, but she knows now that Zack isn't just some ordinary person.

She'd felt something swirl inside her when she'd unleashed traps on him, but now all that's left is regret. Doing those things no longer makes her feel... happy. The thought of him getting hurt now because of her makes her chest squeeze tight.

 _It's okay now. Zack and I are getting out of here. Then... he'll..._

 _...kill me._

They circle the door to the basement, but Ray hesitates. As he gets ready to climb in, he narrows his eyes at her, easily noticing her apprehension.

"Hey, what gives? Let's head downstairs."

She glances at him, nibbling her bottom lip. There's something about that place below... she knows he was there before, but right now, there's something important for her to do first.

"Zack..." She begins unsteadily, swallowing down her uncertainty. "Is it alright if I go down alone...?"

"Huh?!" he busts out, moving to her side to give her a look. "What the hell for?"

"This will also be... the last time I come here," she softly answers, meeting his eyes. "So I thought this would be a good place... to say goodbye."

He doesn't take it well. Zack peers down at her, something portrayed on his harsh features that she's not sure of. "Why are you goin' by yourself?"

...!

 _Is he... really asking?_ For a second, her expression betrays her surprise. _Is he... wanting to be by my side for this? Zack..._

"...It's embarrassing having someone else watching, I guess?" she lamely excuses, toying with a long strand of her blonde hair and smiling awkwardly. "Maybe that's why...?"

He opens his mouth, getting ready to argue with her again— but then stops, her expression giving him pause. His mouth shuts, reopens, and shuts again, before he mumbles something under his breath and moves away, crossing his arms and glancing off toward the ceiling.

"...Just so you know, I slaughtered those mangy mutts!" he says with his back to her.

 _Mangy... mutts?_

 _Oh. I'd... nearly forgotten._

"...Did you?" she murmurs. "Sounds like something right up your alley."

He looks back at her from the corner of his eye, then pretends he's inspecting the shattered table, waving a hand lazily. "I'll keep watch, so hurry up and do whatcha gotta do!"

Her heart thumps gently in her chest, and she finds her smile growing more genuine. Gazing at his annoyed figure, she can't help feel a little happy that he's taking her into consideration.

"...Okay. I'll be right back," she promises.

"...I'll watch your back, so be careful," he mutters, and she nods.

"You got it."

She glances down into the darkness awaiting her. The black entry is foreboding, and she dreads going down. Yet... it's time for her to make that decision. Yet... her feet won't move.

 _I... need to say goodbye._

"You, uh... know I'm impatient, right?"

She glances back to Zack, who she realizes has been watching her soundlessly debate the passage for the last few moments.

"Oh... that's right," she says, blinking.

"And _don't_ forget it!" he says, frowning at her.

"You're a surprisingly good waiter," she notes aloud. "So I guess it slipped my mind."

He gapes at her, and she almost catches the slightest tone of red underneath those bandages before he looks away.

"...More like you're just selfish," he replies hotly.

 _There's that word again..._

 _Everyone seems to think I'm very selfish. It... must be true._

"...You think so?" she hedges quietly.

"I _know_ so!" he grumbles. "Now hurry the fuck up! Christ... you sure do chat a lot for someone so quiet."

Now she's really surprised. "...Huh?"

"Here I am tellin' you to hurry up, but you keep chattin' me up like we're at some tupperware party," he grouses, tapping his scythe against the floor absently.

Ah. That must be so. She hadn't even realized she'd been using him as a reason to stall time.

"Now that you mention it... you did say you hate chit-chat, huh?" she recalls, tapping her chin. "But you seem like more of a chatterbox than I thought."

He takes great offense, bopping her on the top of her head. "Wha-?! That's because you won't shut the fuck up! Man, the way you keep talkin' to me makes this the longest goodbye in the fuckin' history of mankind!"

"Sorry... I'll go right now," she resigns, knowing she can't put if off any longer. Her expression makes his own soften, and he lightly nudges her with his elbow.

"I'll be waitin' here, so go do whatcha gotta do."

Ray glances at him, and the way he looks at her with confidence and strength makes her feel a bit better. This time, as she gazes at the hole it seems less threatening.

She can do this. Zack believes in her... so she can do it.

"Okay," she says, her hands balling at her sides. "You got it."

 _It's... time._

Finding her footing on the unsteady stairs, she heads down into the depths. The further into the dim basement she goes, the more she can make out the lilting notes of something in the distance— something familiar yet old, that invokes a strong sense of nostalgia.

At the bottom, she pauses, glancing down the quiet hall. She can hear it... the sweet, gentle notes of her music box.

 _The music box is playing... does that mean the lid's open?_

Slowly walking through, she enters the big room she used to let the dogs play in with their toys. Their mangled, bleeding corpses meet her gaze, clearly the work of Zack.

 _...Sorry,_ she thinks in passing, quietly mourning their loss. _There's... not enough time to sew you up._

Moving past them and leaping over the gap between this room and the next, she finds herself in the room filled with the playthings of her making. The familiar, yet lifeless creatures all sit waiting for her. It feels like so long since she made them, since she took comfort in their company.

Now... though she made them 'hers', they are no longer something she can keep.

Amongst them, standing behind her music box, a recognizable man turns around to levelly gaze upon her. She halts at the sight of the reverend, and he takes a step forward.

"Greetings, Rachel Gardner," Gray intones.

Of the many unexplainable things she'd expected to see down in this place, he was not one of them. She frowns.

"...Why?" she demands, fumbling with her purse quickly. However, horror strikes her when she realizes that the weapon she's searching for isn't in her possession.

 _...My handgun's gone! I must've dropped it in the living room!_

"Calm down," he scolds her, watching her frenzy and raising a hand. "No harm shall come to you."

Not feeling the least bit safe or certain, she narrows her eyes, her brows furrowing, "...Then what do you want from me?"

"Oh... I merely desired to ask you some questions, that is all," he airily responds.

 _Questions?_

 _The last time he wanted to 'ask me questions', he tried me as a witch in a prejudiced trial..._

"Rachel Gardner," he continues at her silence. "Zack was not your God after all, correct?"

She stiffens, but the word leaves her lips quietly. "...Yes. But... I've come to terms with that."

He smiles half-heartedly, his pupil-less eyes flashing. "Yes... or so it would seem. But is that something you truly accept in your heart?"

 _Something I truly accept..._

 _...Yes. I know it is. I don't see him as my God anymore. He's just... Zack. ...My Zack._

Ray shakes her head. "...Zack and I aren't Gods; we just swore oaths to each other."

He chuckles. "...Precisely. Zack is no longer your God; no longer is he absolute. You have made Zack into a being that is not an angel, nor a God. How shall I put it...? A being that will grant your wishes without question is no more."

If she was confused before, she most certainly is now. Her eyes widen. "...What?"

 _A being that... would grant my wishes without question?_

"'Twas an oath forged with one who is not God— betrayal is conceivable," he tells her, clasping his hands behind his back and eying her steadily. "Nevertheless, if you have faith that your oath is absolute, then how does it differ from any God?"

Something clicks in her head. It's starting to become clear what his meaning is.

 _Absolute..._

 _...I never saw it that way._

 _Our oath was made as a promise, in which he would escape and then kill me. We each would gain something from it, but it's become so much more. Now,_ _we're_ _... so much more._

 _I... desire Zack. I desire him, desire his presence and his choice to kill me. We are... similar._

 _But, his oath... it was never made as unbreakable, I guess. I never saw Zack as... infallible._

 _If for some reason, our oath couldn't come to fruition, or if we betrayed one another... then even still, I would... still have trust in him. I still would keep faith in Zack, even if he turned his back on me._

"...I never really thought of it as absolute," she says, her brows creasing as she thinks, She draws her tongue along her lips dryly, searching for her words.

"...Is that so?" he inquires.

"I certainly do have faith in Zack," she quickly adds. "That much is true. But... our sworn oath and faith in one another is something we each decided in our hearts. Therefore, even if that is betrayed... It's my heart that has faith in him. My heart..."

She swallows lightly.

"...is mine alone to bear. I'm prepared to accept something different to God."

Gray's jaw goes taut, but he casts his head down. "...I see. And yet, you still desire your own death?"

This is an easier answer. "...Yes, I do."

"...How?" he asks sternly. " _How_ can you alter your beliefs as such, yet your desire remain unchanged?"

Ray glances aside, at the toys that litter the room. Dark stains follow their shadows, reminding her of what they once were.

"...It's not that I myself have changed as a person. I just... learned to accept myself. That's all. And I no longer want to forgive that side of myself. No one's left to forgive me. Which is why... I wish to die. I can't go on living."

Her words are filled with her own sincerity. She knew from the very start that this is how she felt, that this was how she was meant to feel. For once, she can speak without lies, and finally give herself the freedom to openly acknowledge that part of herself she wished to hide.

That scary, shadowed being that sews up the ones she loves. The other half of her, to which she has now become one with.

"So you have willed this upon yourself...?" Gray frowns.

"Yes. And..."

 _And... I..._

A small smile settles on her face, and she softly laughs under her breath.

"...The rest I'd better keep secret," she murmurs.

He gazes upon her with something akin to pity, then shakes his head at her, his stern, angular face looking more grim than before.

"'Tis a shame... 'Twere as if you simply renounced God."

She blinks, feeling a little awkward. "Oh. Ummm..."

She hadn't realized how it all sounded until he said so. But, if she were to think about it... maybe she has. It's still undecided.

"You need not stare at me so," he waves a hand, sighing. "'Tis too late for that now."

He frowns further, before growing resigned. His sour expression transforms into a lopsided smile.

"...I have one final question," he says, pinpointing her with his gaze, but softer this time. "Who are you, Rachel Gardner?"

That question again. Last time, he'd been cold and malicious, looking for ways to attack her core. Now seems different, but it still irks her. Her lips purse together.

"...Please stop asking me that over and over. I am me; nothing more, nothing less."

He nods. "...Oh, I see. You speak as if you stand with Zack as an equal. That too... may not be entirely mistaken. A child who is neither an angel nor a witch... There is nary a doubt in my mind that you are indeed Rachel Gardner."

His riddle-like responses make her head hurt a little, but she tries to focus on the concept and meaning. Still, she's starting to feel pressed for time, wasting it on his repeated questions.

"...Yes. Is that all? If we're done here, then let me press the activation switch for the return elevator," she urges.

He takes a step back, gesturing at the still-playing music box. "Yes, do as you must."

She stays still, unsure. "...You won't stop me?"

"Did I not make myself clear? I shan't stand in your way," he says, growing a bit colder at her clear distrust in him. "Apart from that, Rachel Gardner, t'would not hurt to have a little _grace_..."

She waits for him to try anything even with his admission, but he doesn't move to hurt her or cause her trouble. Her blue eyes flicker to the engraved music box with her name carved into the side.

Going to it while keeping Gray in her peripheral, she peeks into the velvet-laced inner of the box, noticing the small switch at the bottom. She reaches out and flicks it softly, and the rumble of the elevator starting up fills the wall nearby.

 _It worked. I gotta get back to Zack._

Ray takes a few careful steps back toward the exit, eying the priest.

"...Reverend, I'm going now," she says.

"Very well, I shan't stop you. Do as you must," he replies easily, watching her.

She's about to turn back when something else crosses her mind. Facing him, she looks upon him with newfound thought.

"...Reverend, is the way out on floor B2?" she presses him.

He gives her a look. "Do you think I would tell you?"

Her hands ball at her sides, fisting into her long white coat.

"...I've answered many of your questions. I think it's only fair if you answer mine, Reverend."

Her tone clearly rubs him the wrong way, as he looks ready to protest. However, something crosses his mind that changes his distasteful frown into a quiet smile.

"...Indeed. Check the stained glass windows in the cathedral on B2."

She's taken aback by his answer, not truly expecting him to be so forthcoming with information, especially something so important. He is, after all, the 'God' of this place, so he said. He could have kept them strung along, searching each floor for the exit until they grew too tired and hopeless to keep on. Yet... he chose to tell her after all, if the information is actually sound.

...She feels he isn't lying to her.

"...Okay," she murmurs.

Turning her back on him, she start to walk when something else strikes her. The main reason for coming down here, besides the elevator switch.

 _Come to think of it, I never did say goodbye to this place..._

Ray glances around at the walls. She'd stared at these same walls, at these creatures, and made this into her 'home'. Now... she abandons it forever.

 _I'm sorry,_ she whispers in the back of her mind, closing her eyes and breathing in the air. The memories of her parents of the years of abuse and neglect, fill her mind. Yet it only makes her a little bit sad.

 _...Farewell._

 **.x.X.x.**

Back upstairs, Zack's ready and waiting for her when she reappears.

"Zack, now we can get back to B2," she tells him, feeling rejuvenated somehow. "Let's head to the elevator that brought us here."

Slinging his companion over his shoulder, he grips the weapon tight in hand. "Right behind you. But what the hell took you so long?"

She ponders her answer. "...The Reverend was in the basement."

"Wha-?!" He's surprised, but it's a lesser shock than she thought he'd have. "He's still around?!"

 _Did he know the priest was here in the basement all this time?_

She nods. "...But he didn't do anything to interfere."

"What's the story with that guy, anyway?" he complains.

 _I don't know... but I'm glad he didn't choose to attack me or get in the way._

 _...Wait!_

"Ah!"

Her sudden exclamation pours out without a second thought, startling the hooded killer, and he reels.

"What is it this time?!" he demands.

"I gotta go to the living room!" she panics, already heading that direction. "I may've dropped my handgun there!"

Recognition lights behind his eyes, recalling their spat before. "Ah... back then... Then let's scoop it up and head down to B2."

She nods fast, and the two leave the kitchen, making a beeline for the living room. Her instinct balks at having to return to that place and see the bodies again, but that gun is far too important to her to leave behind.

It's a second after they're re-entered the dark, wide room that she realizes something is off. Her breath catches in her throat as she gazes over the blood pool on the rug— and registers there are only two bodies left crumpled on the floor, not three.

The doctor's body has vanished, leaving only the fresh bright red streaks to indicate he'd ever been there.

The sharpest pinch of dread knifes through her chest.

"He's... gone again," she whispers.

 _How? How did he live through that? I shot him! I..._ _killed_ _him... He shouldn't be able to move. He shouldn't have been able to live._

 _I should've checked for a pulse, I should have—_

"What the _fuck?!_ That _sneaky bastard...!_ "

Zack's outraged, pissed off voice fills the room, and she glances at him, His features are contorted in his annoyance and fury, the disbelief etched along his bandaged face.

"A monster, am _I? He's_ the real monster!"

Her eyes are pinned against the place he'd lain just a bit ago. He must be severely injured at least. Or could he have pretended to have been hurt, just like he did with Zack?

 _Doc...tor..._

"...Shit," Zack grumbles. "Once we pick up your handgun, let's get the hell outta here."

She can't help but agree, her stomach churning.

She hurries over to where she'd last seen it go flying off, trying to recollect the direction it'd taken when Zack smacked it out of her grasp. Thankfully, she spots it inches from the limp hand of her mother's body, and she quickly takes hold of it.

"Found it," she breathes, but then she frowns at it, her lips growing thin as she examines the weapon.

 _Oh no..._

"You found it, right?" Zack comes up beside her, glancing over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She lifts the gun up for him to see, pointing out a specific place. "...The trigger's broken."

The boy grimaces, taking it between his fingers gingerly.

"...Danny," he hisses, before glancing at her. "It's useless, right?"

Her heart sinks as she responds. "...Yeah."

 _My... 'secret weapon'..._

 _...Completely useless._

Zack looks at her for a few moments, before tossing it back to her and shrugging his shoulders.

"...Oh well, then. Let's get goin'."

Not knowing what else to do with the now-worthless weapon that had protected her all this time, she simply places it in her purse, feeling the weight of it settle at the bottom.

 _Without it... I'm completely weak and helpless. This is awful. But... there's nothing I can do about it now._

Slowly she follows after him. He leads the way back toward the elevator, and her eyes trail around the walls and floor, her fingers knitting into her purse strap.

"...Hey, Zack," she says.

"Huh?"

"Were arrows flying through here? It looks like they didn't activate when you were chasing me..."

He stops to give her an annoyed look. "Don't worry; they were flyin' at me before."

She raises a brow in question, but he doesn't explain any further. They reach the elevator, and the thick steel doors slide open with a resounding clang. Zack peers at it, and something clicks for him.

"Hey, don't tell me the bastard went below."

Ray frowns, already knowing he's on the mark. "...Probably so."

" _Fuck._ Wish I would've sliced him in two," he gripes, kicking at the floor.

 _...Me too,_ she thinks worriedly, before getting on the elevator. He's right behind her, and she takes a last glimpse into her floor before the heavy doors shut tight, barring her from it for the final time.

The large cage shakes and shivers under their feet before beginning its downward descent. Zack leans against the back wall, while she chooses to stand where she is.

"You ran into that preacher guy in the basement, right?" he asks, to which she nods. "Didn't you say somethin' about sayin' goodbye? Did you?"

She closes her eyes, the memories of her past imprinted in her mind forever. "...It was really short, but yeah."

He waits a second before continuing. "Is everything over there... yours?"

Her eyes flicker to him. "There's things I've picked up since I came here, too."

"Oh? Then they aren't really yours?"

Her gaze shifts to the floor, and she fidgets. "...Good question. I tried making them mine by sewing and patching them up... but dolls never answer when spoken to. So I don't know if they were really mine. Though... I cared about them... So I said goodbye."

"Hmm," he hums, giving her a sideways look.

"Oh, the music box was originally mine," she suddenly says, recalling the engraved wooden creation. Her hands tighten even more against her strap, her knuckles turning white. "When I was young... I guess it was the last thing they bought for me. I... really loved its music."

His expression shifts a little, almost sympathetic, and he clears his throat.

"If you want it, then why didn't you just take it with you?"

It had crossed her mind, actually. The thought of taking that music box as a souvenir, to remind her of what was. But...

"...There's no need anymore," she replies softly. "All the music and my memories for it are in my head. As long as I have that, I don't need anything else."

Zack's bi-colored eyes watch her expression, before he lets out a quick sigh. "If that's okay with you, then that works."

She smiles to herself, a small little quirk of her mouth. "...Yeah."

The elevator beneath their feet grinds to a halt then, and the doors reopen to the infamous B2. The colorful stained glass inside casts strange shapes along the wall, lighting their path.

"Alright, we're almost to the ground floor!" Zack exclaims with a grin, spinning his scythe. "Let's move!"

She nods, sticking close to his side. "Okay."

They step out onto the floor, and she can faintly catch a whiff of that fishy, sweet odor that permeated Gray's clothes. It sickens her.

"...We're back," she notes.

"You're right," he grouses nearby, peeking around the corner. "Man, this shit's complicated."

Their footsteps click loud in the hall as they make their way to the large cathedral. The pipe organ continues to play as they approach, yet the player is invisible to their eyes.

"I'm pretty sure he said something about the stained glass windows," she tells Zack as she gazes up over the massive colorful panels. "This window in the middle is the biggest."

Though, unfortunately, as she gets closer, her path is barred by the large organ. It completely keeps them from getting close to the glass.

"I want to check it, but the organ is in the way," she frowns before turning to him. "...Zack."

He's already moving. "You need this organ outta the way, right?"

Getting on one side, he forces his entire weight into it, groaning with the exertion and pain.

"...Ugh, damn!" he curses, already out of breath. "It must weigh a fuckin' ton! Hey! A little help here! Stop starin' and help!"

"...Ah!" she says, realizing he means her. He rolls his eyes and motions at her roughly.

"Don't 'ah', and get your ass _over_ here and help me push!"

She doesn't need told twice, rushing over to stand beside him. She has very little push, but she puts as much effort into it as she can, throwing her small bit of weight into the side quickly. Somehow, their combined efforts get the old piece of equipment moving, and slowly they slide it away, managing to get it off to the side far enough that they can access the glass.

"Aww man," Zack complains, waving his limbs. "My arms feel like jello!"

"It sure was heavy," she agrees.

He comes around to stare at the doors, placing a hand on his hip. "...Hey, is there really a way out here?"

She nibbles her lip. "I'm not sure... That Reverend... I wouldn't take him for a liar. He was nice enough to take me to the floors below, too."

"Ahhh... Even so..." Zack says, clearly skeptical. His years of taking care of himself show through, as he appraises the situation apprehensively.

"...Okay, fine," he relents. "Let's just give it a look then."

Together they inspect the center of the glass, feeling along the colored pieces. After a moment, she stumbles across something familiar.

"Ah! A keyhole!" she declares in surprise.

"A keyhole?" he comes over to see, curious.

"Yeah. That means the way out must be on the other side... but it's locked."

 _No way... we've come this far, and the way out is locked._

"No key..." Zack puffs.

She sweeps the room with her blue eyes. "...Where could it be?"

His wide smile catches her gaze, and she finds herself taking in his smug, cheeky expression.

"...Hey, Ray."

It takes a few seconds before her own eyes grow wider with understanding.

"...Zack, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she hedges.

He pumps a fist in the air, before brushing past her. "Oh _hell_ yeah! Way ahead of you! Hey, stand back!"

Ray quickly sidesteps away, moving behind him to observe as he raises his scythe, the blade gleaming in the light.

"Doors aren't for openin'!" he announces gleefully. "They're for _smashin'!_ "

With a powerful leap, he deftly swings the scythe. The curved blade crashes into the center of the glass panel, and spiderweb cracks form along the insertion. They spread rapidly, and in moments, pieces come shattering out, falling out all over the floor and glittering like small gemstones.

"And _that_ 's how it's done!" he proudly proclaims, straightening his hoodie like he's just won a prize and shooting her a grin. She returns it, though at this point she's become quite used to his ways.

"Yeah..." she says. "Wow."

His expression drops a little at her quiet response, and she raises a brow at him.

"You uh... aren't impressed anymore, I take it?" he asks her.

She lightly chuckles under her breath, brushing aside her long hair.

"Sorry," she tells him apologetically. "It's old news."

"... _Is_ it now?" he says, his eye twitching with annoyance. She just shrugs, and he rolls his eyes at her.

Stepping over the spread out shards of glass, their steps crunch over it as they get inside. Zack hops up first, and he extends a hand for her to take, dragging her much-shorter body up into the darkness. As she adjusts to the darker interior, she realizes that the Reverend truly wasn't lying to them.

A hardly lit room lined in cement extends enough for a massive set of stairs to fill it most the way. Those very stairs go up, lit by the occasional torch, and seem to extend far beyond what she can see.

"Man, these stairs go on forever," Zack remarks, raising a hand and trying to peer further up.

"You're right," she says, before something clicks. A barely remembered recollection, peeking through the murkiness of her mind. She hurriedly turns to him. "I just remembered!"

"Oh? What is it this time?"

"When I came here, I was blindfolded the whole time," she explains, the memory barely hazy even now. "It's vague, but... I have memories of going down a really long staircase. Which means... these stairs should lead us to the surface in no time!"

His eyes grow a size bigger, his mouth dropping open before it splits into a major grin.

"No kiddin?! It's about damn time!" He looks up, and his expression sours a little. "Tell me when we reach the top... so I can puke. Let's take a breather once we're out."

Her enthusiasm seems to wane a little, as something else dawns on her. In the back of her mind, a little nagging voice is prodding at her.

 _It's... almost over. My journey with Zack, and our time together. It will... end soon. Once we're out of here, he'll kill me._

 _I... I still...?_

She shakes her head, trying to erase the awful thoughts that invade from seemingly nowhere. Now isn't the time for this.

Ray leaps forward, taking a few of the stairs in quick succession before glancing back at him, giving Zack a sheepish smile.

"Let's hurry then?"

"Right behind you," he returns, following her steps.

They start the continuing incline of stairs. They're long and wide, making it so they can keep pace with one another— that is, until she accidentally slips and faceplants.

He, who'd gone a few feet ahead, turns around to quickly stride back to her side. "What the hell did you fall for?!"

She winces in pain, her knees now lightly scraped as well as the palms of her hands. Ray picks herself back up slowly. "I tripped on the stairs... It hurts."

"You can't be tired, you slept like a log," he says, frowning down at her. A flicker of concern passes his face, and he adds after a second, "...Can you walk?"

"Yeah..." she says, trying to smile. "I'm fine."

He eyes her a bit longer, before blowing a small gust of air between his lips.

"...Congrats on actin' like a normal human being," he mutters, and she tilts her head.

"...Huh?"

He pauses, like he's meant to respond, but then he swirls around, waving a hand nonchalantly. "...Let's go! And watch yer step, dammit."

 _Zack... What did you mean?_

Though she wants to ask, he's already moving farther on than her, so she hastily catches up to him. It spins in her head, the questions she's meant to ask, but her voice refuses to speak them aloud.

The climb seems to go on forever, and her legs are already protesting especially thanks to her little trip. They must be really far below ground if the stairs are this long...

"Hey, we never did find that Danny bastard," Zack pipes up, his scythe swinging by his side. "Dontcha think we should've found the bastard and finished him off?"

"But... i've no clue of his whereabouts," she replies solemnly. "Not only that, he's been a resident of this building for who knows how long. So he no doubt knows this building like the back of his hand. Hanging around here is dangerous."

Zack hisses under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. "...God dammit. Looks like I've got no choice."

He stops, and she pauses as well, curious. "...Zack?"

The boy comes over to her, rifling through his hoodie before yanking something from the depths and handing it to her.

"You know how you said earlier in the elevator you're happy empty-handed?" he asks, before jerking his chin her direction. "...Here, take this."

She stares at the object in his extended palm, afraid to touch it. She almost doesn't know what to say at all.

"Is this... your knife?" she wonders. "Are you sure it's okay for me to use it again?"

 _After I broke it, and ruined it... something you cared so deeply about._

"It's yours," he replies quietly, pushing it into her hands. The cool weight sits in her waiting grasp, and her fingers curl around it involuntarily. She stares at him, uncomprehending.

"...Huh?'

 _...Mine?_

"There's a chip in it," he mutters, touching the marked part of the small blade, his fingers grazing her skin. "So I'm not sure it'll be of any use... But it's better than being empty-handed, right?"

She blinks up at him, her heart in her throat. For him to give her something like this... something so important to him... What exactly can she say to convey how it makes her feel?

Her chest... feels so warm.

"...Thanks," she murmurs in awe.

"Besides," he says, quickly reverting back to his old self. "Once we get outta here, it's in the bag! Let's get goin'!"

Her smile this time is filled with sincerity. "...Yeah."

Without warning, sirens go off above their heads, the loud piercing wails emanating through the walls. The two glance toward one another, each with expressions etched in confusion.

 _What's going on?_

"Huh?! What's that?!" Zack exclaims.

A staticky screech above their heads resounds, and a female mechanical voice calls out.

" _The self-destruct sequence has been initiated. Detonation will commence from the basement levels."_

Rays heart plummets six feet under, and she grabs Zack's sleeve, tugging at it.

"Zack! We've gotta get out of here!" she urges him.

The floor underneath them rumbles, and the earth shakes under their feet, rattling them both off balance. She falls onto her rear, the harsh step unforgiving and painful.

"Oh, shit!" he yells, trying to keep himself upright. "What the hell's happenin'?!"

"The building's going to _explode!_ " she hurriedly explains. "We gotta escape or the building will collapse!"

 _We've come so far! We can't get trapped down here now!_

The walls implode on their right, and then the left. Stairs begin to crumble under the massive tremors and destruction, and she cries out as she gets knocked into Zack's legs by the impacts. The scent of smoke fills the air, and before she's had time to react, she's realized that they're surrounding by flames. The world around them is crumbling into a fiery disaster, creating an orange glow around their surroundings.

"...Oh no!" she says, terror-stricken. Her chest is painfully restrictive. Pushing herself up, she starts trying to pinpoint a way through the rubble and rock now covering the stairs.

"..The debris! At this rate we'll be burned alive, or buried in rubble," she states, her voice trembling as she takes a step back. Already the temperature is climbing.

 _What are we going to do if we can't get out?_

When he doesn't respond, she turns on him.

"...Zack!"

The look on his face takes her aback. For once in her life, she sees something akin to pure, unadulterated horror laid bare on his bandaged features. His multi-colored eyes are wide, reflecting the image of flames.

 _...What's wrong with him?_

"Zack?" she tries again. "Zack, there's debris all around us— we're trapped! What're we gonna do...?"

He still doesn't respond, and she pushes forward. She frantically starts searching around for something, anything that might help them get out of this mess.

"...No way..." Zack mutters, so low she almost can't hear him over the crackle of the fire. His voice is weak, lacking his usual boisterous nature. "No way in hell... am I gonna be burned alive..."

It clicks then, why he's so afraid. She was blind to it before, but she knows better than anyone else how he feels about flames. Her memory flickers back to when he told her his story, before they had arrived on B1.

 _He's... afraid of it. Fire scares him._

"Zack," she repeats, hoping to rouse him out of it. It doesn't work, and she frowns heavily.

Moving forward toward the upper part of the stairs, she finds a place, where a heavier flaming part of debris sits. It could possibly be lifted out of the way, but it would be easier to cut it away. She can see a way through just on the other side.

 _With a little effort, we can maybe get past this...!_

"Zack..." she calls for him. "This way."

Silence. She glances back at him desperately.

"...Zack!" Ray raises her voice, and he finally turns to look back at her as if breaking from a dream. "This way! We can get out from here!"

"...Huh?" he squeaks.

"I _know_ you can smash through here!" she tells him determinedly. "So I know you got this!"

She gets out of the way, standing near it, and he slowly takes a couple steps toward it. His eyes are trained on the dancing flames, and his lips are twisted into a pained grimace. A few heartbeats pass where nothing happens, until an odd smile creeps across his face.

"...Bad news, Ray," he tells her in a dead tone. "My uh... My legs are frozen."

She blinks in shock, but then it dawns on her.

"Oh..." she whispers, her eyes lighting on the debris. "The flames..."

 _He can't face them. Zack is too afraid._

 _What do we do?_

 _...No. No, I know what to do._

It's as if something else awakens inside her. A steel set of courage she didn't know she possessed erupts in her chest, something akin to loyalty to Zack, the culmination of her trust in him.

 _I believe in Zack. And he... believes in me._

 _I've trusted him to help me before. Now... It's my turn._

 _...I have to do this for Zack._

She doesn't give herself time to think. She doesn't think of the consequences, or of the strategy. She thinks only of Zack— and runs forward.

Practically tackling the debris, Ray slide sher hands under it, and the fire licks at her skin, burning her palms until she yelps in pain. Zack starts behind her, but she doesn't blink before she lifts up the heavy piece of rubble and tosses it aside. Her hands burn and sting, and she kneels on the step, cringing.

"W-What the hell?!" he shouts, broken out of his trance before running up to her. He grabs her shoulder, staring at her and her hands. "What're you doin?!"

She licks her dry lips. "...It sure is hot, and it burns..." she whimpers.

"Fuckin' obviously!" Zack snaps.

Her eyes meet his, her expression serious and firm.

"Zack, _listen_ to me," she tells him, her icy, worried blue eyes clashing with his brown and gold. "I'll tell you what you can smash... and I'll find a way for us out of here!"

 _We've gone through so much. We've passed trial after trial, fought alongside one another. He's had my back, and I... have his. I know we can do this._

She smiles at him, brimming with confidence in him, in the both of them.

"It's alright!" she nods her head, certain. "We'll survive this!"

He looks at her, filled with surprise. He glances away, emotions rushing across his face so fast she can hardly follow.

"...Move," he finally demands. "I got this!"

She doesn't need to hear it again, scrambling behind him. Zack takes her place, yanking back his scythe and, after a moment's hesitation, slashing down through the rubble, clearing a space big enough for them to go through.

They rush through into another part, and he turns back to her. His expression slowly transforms into a grin.

"...Damn, Ray," he comments, chuckling under his breath. "You're really somethin'."

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, before a flash of heat not caused by the fire crests over her cheeks. A soft smile spreads over her lips.

"...Let's go, Zack!" she eggs him on.

He lets out a much more maniacal chuckle, and she recognizes the mischievous gleam in his eyes. His weapon gleams as he wields it.

"You got it! Let's go, Ray! I'll smash anythin' in our way!"

The mechanical voice from before shouts out overhead, barely audible over the rising rumble of the fire enveloping the building.

" _The basement floors will collapse in five minutes._ "

They nod to one another, and she rushes forward, Finding the next place that looks shallow enough to cut through, she guides him there.

"Zack, this one!"

"Nice!"

They bust through, and she doesn't waste time looking for the next piece.

"This one looks breakable!"

"Alright!"

"This one's next!"

"Got it!"

The crashing of their rampage fills the air. It's getting hard to breathe with all the smoke in the air, but they press on. Ray finds them ways through, and he obediently removes their obstacles. They're a well-oiled machine, working in sync.

In a clearer part of the stairs, the floor shakes and trembles. She's knocked back into Zack, who steadies her quickly, and it takes a single blink of an eye for the floor to give way before her. She gasps at the sight of the gaping hole.

"...Oh no! We can't go any further with this in the way!" she says with dread.

"Huh?" he says, not nearly as bothered. "Easy as pie!"

"...What?" Too late, she understands his meaning. "...Ah, wait-!"

"You know what's comin, right?!" he grins, before grabbing hold of her under her arms. "Get readyyyyy!"

She squeaks out as he hoists her up and throws her across the gap as easily as if tossing a twig. He follows suit, jumping across and narrowly avoiding slipping into the black hole. He lets out a relieved breath, wiping his forehead.

"...Whoa, that was close."

Ray gives him a dirty look once she's recovered enough of her composure. "...Not _again_."

He shrugs. "It's just easier chuckin' you instead. What's your face all goofy for? Time to move!"

 _Why is it_ _easier_ _...?_

Deciding there'd be time to scold him for it later, she shakes her head and picks up the pace, heading for the nearest place to smash through. It's not easy to find, the debris looking a lot thicker and harder to move.

Finally, she finds a place that might work. "The area ahead's buried in debris, but this looks breakable!" she points out.

"Nice!"

He cuts down through it, unveiling another layer. She nods her head, offering encouragement.

"Zack, keep it up! Keep the destruction up!"

He grins and takes her words to heart, cutting through pile after pile until they break free. She maneuvers them through, dodging through the flames that threaten to eat away at them.

 _One misstep, and we'll become fuel for the fire...!_

Managing just barely to keep her and Zack from falling into the awaiting hungry fire, she finds an area that seems much less infested by the hellfire. Quickly searching for a breakable spot, she thankfully finds another.

"Zack, break this!" she says, pointing it out.

His eyes go wide, and he yells at her. " _Hey_ , outta the way!"

"Huh-?"

He lunges forward, grabbing her arm. Yanking her back into his chest and away from the spot, she narrowly misses a large piece of falling, flaming rock that crashes down where she'd been standing. Her breath freezes in her lungs.

"...Damn, that was a close one!" he exclaims.

A new problem has arisen, however. The dancing fire has engulfed the spot, and she frowns.

 _I have to do something about the fire, or we can't puss through!_

"Hang on, Zack, I'll take care of the fire...!" she tells him quickly, but he bops her on the head painfully.

"Knock it off!" he refuses. "No need!"

She stares at him in surprise as he draws his scythe out, eyes glued to the fire.

"You told me I can break it! Then..." He glances back at her and grins. "There's no way in hell I can't break it, right?! _Right_ , Ray?!"

He slashes through the pile of rubble in front of him. He pulls her along through the opening, and then looks to her.

"See?!"

She widens her eyes, before nodding. "...You're right. _Yeah_...!"

His complete trust in her words fills her with her own sense of determination.

"Let's move!" he declares.

Thye approach another barrier. This time, nothing looks easily passable even though she looks hard.

"Zack, this looks breakable," she manages. "Careful though, it looks rigid!"

"Huh? How the fuck do I carefully _break_ somethin'?!" he protests. She shakes her head.

"Alright, just break it how you always do, then!"

He cuts through it viciously. "Do I keep smashin' stuff ahead too?"

She quickly nods again. "Yep!"

He forces his way through, but the last barrier makes something metallic clang strangely. Zack reels back his scythe, frowning.

"Son of a bitch..."

"Zack?!" she says worriedly, and he raises the weapon for her to see.

"...The blade cracked."

"Is it broken?"

"Nah," he shakes his head. "it should be fine. Let's get the hell outta here!"

They bust through a few more piles of debris that stand between them and the exit. Pushing through and tossing aside rubble on her own as well, Ray looks up and realizes that the path in front of them is nearly clear— and much shorter than she thought. The top of the stairs looms ahead.

"Zack, we're almost at the end of the stairs!" she says elatedly.

" _Finally_!" he grins.

"Yeah! We're almost out!" she says, before the ground suddenly convulses under their feet.

Zack flails, trying to keep himself from getting knocked around. "Shit...!"

The ceiling ahead crumbles, before completely falling to pieces in front of them, hiding their last few steps underneath tons of unbridled rock and rubble.

"Oh no, it's caved in...!" Ray says in disbelief.

 _What are we going to do now? Can we even get through?_

 _Is this where we get trapped? Right here next to the exit?_

"Hey!"

Zack's voice draws her back to the present. He's standing in front of it, illuminated in the flickering shadows of the fire's glow.

"Ray! Think I can smash through the debris?!" he demands.

"Ohh..." she flounders, cringing. "Uhh..."

Another explosion, and she gasps, her words cutting off before they've even fully formed. Yet Zack grips tight to his weapon, looking far more determined than before.

"I got this!" he announces, giving her a winning smile. "So just say the magic words, Ray!"

She opens her mouth, taken off guard by his disarming demeanor— but then her care and confidence in him floods back.

Yelling at the top of her lungs, through her own fear and uncertainty, she screams; "You got this!"

He throws her a thumbs up. "Leave it to me! Took you long enough!"

She can't help but smile as he faces the rocks and debris. With a crazed, pure mirthful laugh, he smashes his way through, creating his own path despite the resistance. She stays close behind, practically clinging to his hoodie, until they finally make it out. At that moment, there's a sharp crack, and Zack curses under his breath.

His trusted scythe, which he'd uses for so long, falls to pieces. The blade finally shattered under the pressure and use, leaving him with just a stick and a jagger metal edge.

"Zack, your scythe...!" Ray cries.

"Whoa, she's spent," he says, patting the shaft. "Oh well. I picked it up around here, after all. No worries. I'll just find a replacement when we get outta here. First things first, let's get outta here! _Move_ it!"

He grabs her hand, tossing the broken scythe aside, and they go running up through the narrow passage, finally reaching the platform above and followed by the oncoming sounds of explosions and fire consuming the bottom floors.

They've barely taken a step into the clear room before their way in collapses behind them, forever sealing off the underground facility forever.

Both of them, breathing hard and covered head-to-toe in sweat and soot, take a moment to catch up with their racing heartbeats.

"Good, we made it," she barely manages.

"Man, this damn building was absolutely fucked up to the very end...!" Zack grumbles to himself, before turning to her. "But still... You did good, Rachel. I couldn't have done it without you."

His words leave her feeling warm and fuzzy for a moment, especially his use of her full name— until it's replaced with a hollow, echo-like sensation buried deep in her chest.

She offers a small smile. "The same goes for me."

Turning her head and scanning the area, her eyes light on the door waiting for them on the other side of the room.

"...Zack," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

He follows her gaze, seeing the steel double doors for the first time. His mouth works for a moment as he processes.

"It's the way out..." Ray murmurs.

"We did it!" he exclaims happily. "Now we can finally leave this dump!"

He starts to walk forward, but she stays behind watching his back. Her entire body has gone cold now, despite the heat of the fire.

It's... all over, now.

They're now able to be free. They can get out, and he can kill her.

...But...

"Zack..."

Slowly she approaches him, and he stops to turn back to her. His gauze-covered face is smudged with dirt and ash, but so distinctly Zack. The image of his features burns itself into her mind's eye.

"What?"

"Once we're... _outside_ , you'll kill me, right?" she asks him quietly.

He raises a brow, his face crinkling. "...What're you asking me that now for?"

Her heart is aching inside.

It's all come down to this, after all.

Ray knew that it would come eventually. That the time would come where she'd finally receive the death she sought, and by Zack's hand. Yet, now...

...It's as if it's not right. She does still want to die, but... Now, it's like part of her resists. Something inside her is whispering that it doesn't want to die just yet.

"Zack..." Ray swallows thickly. "Is that what you want as well...?"

She closes her eyes, steeling herself and not wanting to see the way his face changes.

"See... My desire to die is unchanged," she begins to explain, her fingers knitting into her jacket. "But... _But..._ "

Why is it so hard to explain? Why can't she tell him how she feels? Why... Why won't she speak up...?

"If possible, I... I want you to desire it," she breathes, her chest heaving and trembling. "I want my death to be desired."

If she were to die on her own, for her own sake, it feels like such an empty, pointless venture. Yet if someone she cared for asked for her death, then she would gladly give her life for them. And only one person is willing to ask such a price.

Her eyes slowly trail off. "Though I long for death... The thought of dying alone suddenly makes me feel so desolate inside. The thought of _you_ deeply desiring my death... makes me truly happy. Although..."

Ray glances down, where she has Zack's knife placed safely into her purse. She runs her fingers along the battered fabric.

"You did just give me your knife, so I feel like I'm being selfish..."

Zack's heterochromatic eyes examine her expression for a few moments, something unreadable hidden behind his mismatched irises. He faces away from her, but she can barely catch a glimpse of his darkened expression.

"...I gave you that knife earlier for one reason," he replies, not looking at her at all. "So you'd... survive long enough for me to kill you. Til then, I never did a single thing for anyone in my life."

His free hands are tightly balled into fists at his sides.

"No way in hell would I _ever_ swear an oath for something I don't desire."

Ray gazes at his back, the warmth returning to her slowly. Her eyes are starting to sting again, too.

"...You mean it?" she asks again.

"Dammit— will you give it a rest?!" he whirls back on her, flicking his black hair out of his face. "How many _times_ do I _gotta_ say—"

"—That you hate liars?" she finishes for him, smiling at him softly.

She watches as he sputters for a moment, growing a bit flustered.

"C'mon, what're you completin' my sentences for?!" He clears his throat noisily, before glancing aside, not meeting her eyes. "When the time comes, make sure yer ready to show me the face I wanna see! You suck at smiling more than anyone I know!"

Feeling lighter somehow, she nods. "...You got it!

 _Zack..._

 _I will._

 _Once we're out... I'll smile, for you. Because of you._

 _Outside in the world you cherish, where we'll eventually... have to part ways, when you desire my death..._

 _...I'll smile the best I can._

Together, with Ray to Zack's left, they walk toward the door. The anticipation of exiting this place once and for all, of leaving with Zack and sending her past— _their_ past, down to burn with the fire, is almost too much to bear. But she's happy... so happy.

She's with Zack. And he desires her death. How could it all be any brighter for her than this...?

 _Click._

Neither one of them hear the sound before it's too late to catch on.

There's a loud, heart-pounding, piercing shot that rings through the air long after it occurs. Ray doesn't even register the moment of impact, until she jolts forward.

Her eyes trail downward, settling calmly on the sprouting red blossom of blood spreading through her black and white shirt.

Then she's falling forward, catching sight of Zack's horrified face, with her smile still pasted across her lips as if frozen in time.

 _I was... so happy._

And then the world around her shuts down, fading to black.

 **.x.X.x.**

He can't breathe.

Of all the fucking times to be left dumbstruck and filled with horror, this one takes the goddamn cake.

It was fine. Everything was _fine._

Zack was with _her_ , and they were almost out. Out of this fucked up place filled with psychos even crazier than him. He was nearly free, and he was with Ray, and that's all that mattered.

Just a few moments ago, he'd been hard-pressed to bend to Ray's wishes, to tell her what she wanted to hear even if he wasn't sure that was what he wanted himself. Sure, to kill her was something he'd 'desired' way back when they first met. Now, though... it's a helluva different story. She's not just some creepy lifeless doll anymore.

This girl who urged him on, encouraged him, fought on his behalf...

...Why is she lying against the ground? Her beautiful golden hair is splayed out over her back and around her face, and she's face-first on the floor. He can't process what he's seeing. He can't believe it.

He heard it, heard that familiar noise— the click of a gun's safety. But he was so slow to notice what it was...

"...Uh, Ray?" he chokes out.

His eyes grow huge when he sees blood begin to pool underneath her, spilling out. Hell, he's seen blood so many times before that it's no surprise now. But—!

"...Ray-?!" he shouts.

He's moving faster than even he can understand. Falling to his knees and gathering her into his arms, he pulls her close, her small body easily fitting into his hold. She's so tiny, god fucking damn it. Why the hell is she so small like this? A tiny, perfect, fragile doll.

... _Damn_ it!

"What the hell?!" he yells out, turning her to see the crimson stain against her shirt. It's right by her heart, near the center of her chest.

 _Fuck. What the— oh_ _fuck_ _._

 _Ray-!_

"Za-aack...?"

Her soft, quiet voice barely reaches his ears, and he's so thankful to see those blue eyes open that he can't believe even himself. They're dim though, so dim, like the first time he'd met her. She winces, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes.

A familiar, ear-grating laugh fills the air, and Zack's head whips to the side. That blasted bastard doctor comes crawling out of the shadows, wielding a gun with that fucked up smile on his face.

"Oh, how dreadfully horrible! What a horrible mess!" he cheerfully exclaims. "Guess who blew up the building? It's just a matter of time until the flames engulf the upstairs!"

A blind rage like never before erupts with Zack. Her fingers tightly grip Ray close, and he's even angrier knowing he's trembling.

"...You _bastard!_ " he roars.

He lets go of Ray to lunge at Danny, but a gunshot rips through him easily, a shot to the side. He gasps and grips his side, while that fucked up-ass doctor keeps laughing like he's heard the world's funniest joke.

"Aren't _we_ hot-blooded despite being unarmed?" Danny mocks.

... _Fuck! He's right!_ He hates to admit it, but his scythe is fucking gone now, which means he's got nothing but his dinky knife- which is currently in Ray's possession. Fuck...now he's remembering how happy she looked when he gave it to her. Damn it. _Shit_...!

"What a pity!" Danny continues, licking his lips disgustingly. "Your promise to each other will go unfulfilled!"

"...Zack..."

Zack is drawn back to Ray's side by her voice. He quickly lifts her into his arms again, brushing her blonde hair away. There's blood spattered against her cheek, and he has to fight the urge to wipe it away. It doesn't suit her at all.

"Zack..." she whispers his name so softly that it doesn't even sound real. "I'm so sorry..."

"W-What the hell for?!" he demands, though his chest feels empty and hollowed out. He's never felt like this, never fucking cared if someone got hurt or if they died right in front of him, but— hell, not like _this_! "Hey, snap outta it!"

To his horror, there are tears in her eyes. He'd nearly lost himself the last time he saw her cry, when he'd channeled those feelings into anger and pushed her back into herself again. Those freakishly light blue, cornflower eyes of hers are threatening to spill over any second.

"I... made a promise to you that I couldn't keep," she whimpers, "...Sorry.

"Cut the bullshit!" he hastily growls out. "Didn't I tell you I _hate_ liars?!"

Her eyes slide closed with her expression still tinged in pain, and he shakes her a little, panic entering his heart. "Hey, stay with me...!" he commands her, hoping that she looks at him again, trying desperately to keep her holding on. "I'm not gonna let you go!"

 _I won't let you go!_

 _Ray, don't die on me! I need you here! I...!_

 _Fuck! Ray, please...!_

Another shot creates a new gaping wound through his body, and Zack yelps, falling forward over Ray as pain threads up from the injury. His blood is mixing with hers, but hers is far more frightening. He's a monster, he can deal with this shit, but her... Just that one shot alone...

" _You're trapped! Helpless! And powerless!_ " Danny screams out, taking great pleasure in their demise. "And best of all, Zack! I won't let you kill Rachel! How does it feel, you guys...? How's it feel to have your dream crushed?! I'd just _love_ to know! Then, after that, how's about we all _off_ ourselves?!"

Right about now, Zack would love to tear off Danny's lips and shove them down his throat, but he doesn't want to leave Ray's side.

"Shit..." he spits out, forcing himself to keep upright enough to look at her.

 _This is all fucking wrong. I can't—! I can't do this!_

"Zack..." she whispers his name, but he's far too upset at this point.

"Stop... _lying_..." he forces through his teeth.

She's quiet a moment. "...Sorry."

"For fuck's sake," he growls out. " _Don't make me a liar!_ "

 _Not like this! Not because of that sick fuck!_

 _Not to you!_

" _I can't let you die on me!_ " he shouts aloud, his desperation laced in his voice. He's never heard himself sound so fearful and panicked before.

Who is he? What has he become?

No...

What has she made him into?

Ray changed him, he knows she did. But he hadn't realized just what kind of effect she had on him until now.

"No, Zack..." she burbles. "It's okay. You were always there for me... But it doesn't mean every time..."

She's not making any goddamn sense and his head is spinning, wild and worried and _god fuck she can't die on him like this._

"What're you sayin'?!"

"Ahaha! There's nothing more entertaining than a helpless monster!" Danny says, pulling himself closer to them to watch at a better angle. His fucked up eyes sparkle with mirth.

"...No."

Zack's eyes are drawn to her as she talks. She coughs once, her entire frame shaking with that small action.

"He's... no monster. But he's no God either..." she whispers, and her blue eyes focus on him, seeking his soul. Her small fingers are on his cheek suddenly, and he's frozen under the fading warmth of her touch.

"Zack is... _human_."

It's as if she has just hit him with lightning. All the air in his lungs disappears, and he's left staring at her in awe and confusion.

He's...not a monster?

He's... human?

All his life, he's always been labelled a monster. Unlovable, disgusting, violent. He changed into what they all wanted him to be, a killer with no cares in the world. He took that title and made it his own, coated it in blood and became comfortable under the weight of it all.

But Ray... says he's human?

"You're human, Zack," she repeats more forcefully, cupping his cheek. "Which is why— Which is why you needn't always... devote yourself... to me..."

Her voice is fading fast, and her hand slips down. He catches it, taking hold of her limp wrist between his much larger fingers.

 _What is this all supposed to mean? Why is she saying this? Does she really mean it? No... No, wait... What..._

"Human...? So, what...? Hey... What's that supposed to mean...?" he asks her, bewildered.

Danny, however, grows agitated fast at her words. He waves his gun, getting to his knees, wobbly.

"You don't seek devotion, Rachel...? But I've devoted my all, my _everything_ to you!" he says, heartbroken. "The food, clothing, toys— even the floor itself was all for you! Yes, I gave you a place to _thrive_ ; and now you _deny_ that?!"

"I'm sorry, doctor," she replies, glancing at him weakly. "But... none of that is what I wanted."

He reels, glaring between Zack and her.

"Then what did _Zack_ give you that was so special?!" he spits out. "Just some trashy knife?! Or was it that ridiculous oath? An oath to ensure your death? Absolute _lunacy_! Despite the fact I... I tried to _spare_ your life?!"

"Doctor, I didn't wanna live that way," she shakes her head a little. "The truth is... I wanted to be desired in life, and desired in death... even if for a fleeting moment. I realized that as Zack and I made an oath and strove to leave this place... That was... enough for me."

 _That was enough?_

 _I was... enough?_

Danny stares at her, before a cocky, angry smile lights over his bloodied face.

"...Then at least show me your despair. After all— _I_ just _snatched away_ your oath!" he says triumphantly.

" _Shut up!_ " Zack yells, sick of his rambling. He's done nothing but say irritating things, when all Zack wants to do is hear Ray talk.

"Oh, do be quiet! Let me _finish_!" Danny scolds him like a little boy.

Ray, however, smiles as if unbothered.

"Doctor... you haven't snatched it away," she refutes him. "This oath... It was sworn by Zack and I. An oath... can't be stolen by someone else! Even if it's never fulfilled... It doesn't matter since it's _ours._ This, I know..!"

Danny lets out an animalistic wail in frustration, but Zack's left in the dust of her words, trying to process everything she's saying.

"Wait," he barely manages to get out. "I... just can't accept that...!"

Those dreaded tears are cascading down her pale face— fuck, she's starting to turn ghost white. He's trapped in her gaze, unable to let go of her hand.

"Zack... I'll bear this oath. So please don't think of yourself as a liar...? Zack, our promise... doesn't have to be fulfilled!"

Those words leave her shell-shaped lips, and then she goes limp, her eyes sliding closed. Panic slaps him across the face, and he shakes her, trying to rouse her and wake her up.

 _No!_

 _Ray, no!_

"Ray... Ray!" he says, her name repeating across his lips so many times that he sounds like a broken record.

She doesn't respond. She's not waking up. She's—!

" _Raaaaaaaaaay!_ "

He can't breathe. He can't see, _fuck_ , what's _wrong_ with him? His eyes are stinging. His face is blistering hot.

No way. She can't die. She _can't!_

Danny laughs, a mindless cackle that brings the temperature to an even colder chill.

"Oh, and Rachel," he says sweetly. "If you intend to live the rest of your life with those evasive, distrusting peepers... I thought that it wouldn't matter if we couldn't live together. Yes— if you would remain in isolation forever... I could die now a happy man!"

He's an even sicker person that Zack realized, but as he leans over Ray's body, he catches sight of Danny's face. There are dark tear marks down the bastard's face.

"Yet..." Danny continues, beginning to sob quietly. "Why do you insist on distancing yourself from isolation to the very last? You _ruined_ it. So it's... all over."

Explosions ring out, and pieces of the ceiling come caving in around them. The fire laps away at the walls, catching easily. In no time, it will spread.

"Your desire, and Zack's... _all of it_ , everything... I'll put an end to them along with my own desires too!"

He begins to stalk forward, but something comes crashing down by his feet. He's left halting and glancing upward, and Zack realizes an arrow is wedged beside him.

Following the direction he's looking, he catches sight of Gray on the platform above their heads. Wielding a crossbow, he has it trained on the doctor, unyielding.

"...What are you doing?" Danny demands.

"I say... You have taken your indulgence too far." Gray states authoritatively.

Danny gapes at him. "I'm not finished yet! I must... _take care_ of them...!"

He makes to lunge toward Zack and Ray, but there's the sound of a bow snapping— and Danny is left lying against the floor with an arrow protruding from his body.

With the doctor out of commission for a moment, Zack tries to get himself together. He doesn't want to fucking move ever again, but Gray calls down to him from above.

"Oh, Zack, can you still move?"

"You bastard..." he growls to Danny, ready to tear him to pieces. Now is the perfect opportunity. "Say your fuckin' prayers."

"Save your strength for leaving this place," Gray urges him.

 _Fuck you!_

It all crashes down on him. The girl that he cared about is lying in a puddle of her own blood, and he couldn't save her. Hell, he can hardly admit to himself that he wanted to save her, and he wanted her to go outside with him. He's just fucking weak enough that he's not even able to help himself, let alone _her._

He really wanted to see her smile for real.

" _MInd your own beeswax!_ " Zack hisses furiously. "A human will _die_ from this much blood loss!"

His eyes flicker to her, where she lies lifeless. He's in so much pain, but it's not the physical side of it that hurts the most.

"What's... the point of goin' outside... if she dies?!" he says brokenly, sitting up and shifting, gingerly placing a hand over a bullet wound and the other tangling in his bangs.

 _I don't want to go out there without her._

 _Ray, I..._

"Rachel Gardner is still quite alive!"

Those words make Zack whirl around to stare at the priest. That pupil-less creep looks back, relentless.

"Take her outside now, and she will be saved!" he tells him urgently.

Zack's eyes widen. "What do you mean...?"

"Find out for yourself!" he shakes his head. "The building could collapse at any moment, Zack!"

The meaning behind his words finally becomes crystal clear. Zack understands.

 _If I don't get her out of here soon... we'll both die in this shithole._

Without another word, he moves to her side. Carefully, as if handling delicate china, the boy scoops her up into his arms, holding her to his chest. She's still barely warm, but that's enough of a sign for him to know she's still alive.

 _Hold on, Ray. I'll get you out of here._

With her in his grasp, he clutches her close, and takes strong, meaningful steps forward, opening the doors to the outside and not looking back once.

 **.x.X.x.**

"Ahh... this place is no more."

Gray gazes down at the flames engulfing his precious haven, lowering his bow.

"'Tis an unexpected end to this tale, would you not say, Daniel...?"

The doctor crawls forward, straining to look up to the reverend.

"Reverend, why...? I admit it was selfish, but _yes!_ It was for your sake too! Still, my actions were not a mistake in the least! It was for my happiness, and— my meddling in the matters of those who upset the laws in this building... should've benefitted you in some way!"

The priest simply nods his head, sighing low under his breath.

"Oh, Daniel... 'Twas helpful indeed. I was able to observe something quite fascinating. I originally believed Zack to be a crystalline-winged being. Those wings, however, hath faded away."

"Crystalline wings...?"

Danny snorts lightly, yet tears are flowing down his face without cease.

"Did you truly think of him as an angel?"

"...Indeed," Gray answers. "He was pure-hearted and bloodshed was all he had ever known. Nonetheless, the blade Zack wielded for that very purpose came to serve another. And consequently... his blade was broken. Zack has lost his wings, and is now human. ..Well, 'tis better to say he was human all along, perhaps."

"That's merely just a coincidence..." Danny protests, wincing with pain.

"What is more intriguing," Gray continues on with a half-hearted smile. "is that the one who showed me that was a child I condemned as a witch; Rachel Gardner.

The doctor gasps. "Rachel...!"

The reverend nods his head knowingly. "'Twas a radical transformation, and quite telling. And she was merely a selfish, contradiction-riddled girl. In hindsight, perhaps twas I who attempted to strip Zack of his humanity."

"If that is true, then why...?" Voice ladled with agony, Danny stares at the man above in betrayal. " _Why_ did you shoot me?!"

"My monitoring and experiment have already run their course," he replies. "My role as the eyes of God has ended. And this shall serve as my inconsequential atonement."

Danny tilts his head, not understanding. "Reverend... After all this time, whatever for?"

"Danny..."

Gray intakes a small breath. The smoke is becoming near unbearable now, yet he takes it in stride.

"You are the one who brought that girl. Desiring to bestow souls instead of reave them. Did you not attempt to become the God of that child? Yet, Danny... you are not a God. And you also _knew_ this, did you not?"

Danny is taken aback by the strong accusation in the man's voice, but he shouts back, filled with grief. "But what else is there for me then?! When I saw Rachel's peepers...They were unloving and full of such despair! I _longed_ to shower those peepers with love for all eternity! It was then that my once insignificant life gained meaning again! I could accomplish anything to make it come true! but... I can no longer love those peepers."

He slams a fist down into the floor, shaking.

"I mean... if she isn't alone... Who will love such an ugly wretch like myself—?!"

The preacher's brows knit together, and he tsks softly.

"Oh, Daniel," he says, awash with pity. "By showering her with love... You would only desire to someday be loved yourself."

"No...!" he protests loudly, vehement with tears. "That's not it!"

"Danny, we are merely human," Gray tells him gently. "Ah... It seems humans were the only beings here from the start. Yet humans create gods, angels, and even humans themselves. In fact, perhaps that was true for Rachel Gardner. And those who destroy them... are human as well."

"Oh, Reverend," Danny wails. "What is it you have seen within the humans here?"

"Well..." Gray shakes his head. "Regretfully, what I always see. Blindness, ugliness, and... beauty. Nothing more. Oh, and Daniel..." He meets the man's gaze below.

"I feel the same can also be said for you."

Danny grows stiff below at his words.

"I only realized this now... despite your stay here being the longest. Forgive me," Gray asks.

The physician looks up at him, and his eyes grow glossy with unshed tears. He licks his dry lips.

"My time has drawn to an end..." he whispers, with a small smile resting on his face. Finally, a strange sense of peace settles over the man. "Now, you choose to call me beautiful...?

Gray watches as the doctor slowly grows weaker, but returns the smile with his own reassuringly. He gazes up toward the wonderful colored glass window above, and closes his eyes as the world around him crumbles and descends into an inferno.

"...Indeed."

 **.x.X.x.**

"Hey, hang in there. We're almost outside. Don't go dyin' on me now..."

Forcing himself to keep pushing through, Zack walks down the narrow, old walkway with Ray held protectively in his arms. He's slow, but he can see the awaiting light of the outdoors right in front of him.

They've come so far, gone through so much— and here it is.

Bursting through the doorway, fresh, clean night air enters his lungs. He takes a huge breath, choking it down instead of the nasty, stale, smoky air of the building behind him. He's faced with an old paved street in an alley, the sight only slightly familiar.

"Hey, we're outside," he says to her, glancing up toward the sky. The city lights block out most the stars, but he's imagining them up there somewhere.

Hurrying down the steps and glancing left and right, he frowns.

 _'Take her outside and she will be saved!'? What did he mean by that?! What am I supposed to do now?!_

He takes a few steps back and places Ray gently near the stairs, trying to wake her from her unconsciousness.

"Hey! Wake up!" he calls out for her. "Hey, Ray! Wake _up!_ Are you just gonna die on me?!"

 _Open your eyes, do something. Anything, Ray._

 _Come on. I need you to show me you're okay._

"...For fuck's sake, open your eyes!" he pleads.

He pauses as the sounds of loud sirens come barreling through the neighborhood. As he watches, several squad cars and a firetruck come racing over, stopping in front of him, and he realizes what this all means.

 _So when that bastard preacher said she'd be saved... This is what he meant, eh?_

 _Well, this place_ _did_ _light up like the fourth of July..._

His body feels cold, and he's in so much pain, yet he can't help the odd chuckle that erupts from his throat.

...Ah, he really has changed. He can't even believe he's decided on this, and so quickly, too.

...But, he's not the same person he used to be.

He's... only human, after all.

 _So, that's how it is, huh...?_

A painfully bright spotlight is flashes on him, and the police officers are rushing out and aiming their guns at him. He knows what this looks like, and he knows what he's getting into—

—but, fuck it. He'll rush headlong into it and he'll see this thing through to the end.

Standing at Ray's side, he stares at the fate that awaits him. His hands clench into fists, but the smile on his face never wavers.

"Hey, Ray..." he says aloud, hoping—, no, _knowing_ she can hear him.

"...Don't forget that I swore an oath to you. I will kill you."

He closes his eyes, and glances up to the sky above, watching a bird cross over his head— and blows a short gust of air past his lips.

Then, he walks forward, into the bright light in front of him head on without fear or worry, with his mind already set.

Ready to face what awaits, where he knows the bond they share will continue to be unbreakable.


	16. Epilogue: Smile

**.x.X.x.X.x**

 _[Date Redacted]_

 _'Rachel Gardner, a girl who vanished during questioning regarding the Gardner homicide, was found near a burning building in [City Redacted, State Redacted] and taken into protective custody._

 _Found accompanying her was Isaac Foster, a suspect presumed to be involved in a string of murders which have made headlines in past years. This time, Foster was charged and arrested for kidnapping. And though he denies these allegations, he has gone on record to admit the murder allegations are partially true. Furthermore, the body of a man was found in the burnt remnants of the building, though authorities are unable to identify it.'_

 **Seven Months After**

 _[Date Redacted]_

' _Authorities are investigating the possible involvement of a new cult in the recent building fire, though an explosion at the time of the fire caused the building's basement to collapse, hampering progress._

' _Furthermore, due to allegations against Isaac Foster as a suspect surfacing in the Gardner homicide, the case has now been reopened._

' _Meanwhile, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, Rachel, who denied allegations against Foster for kidnapping, was transferred to a rehab facility. Due to exhibiting signs of mental delirium, she is receiving counseling from a medical specialist.'_

 **.x.X.x.**

In a dreary, dark, shadowed jail cell at some time in the deepest part of the night, a boy sits by himself. Knees pulled haphazard to his chest as he leans back against the granite wall behind him, fitted in a garish orange uniform with a numbered code on it instead of a name.

The world around him is silent, save for the faint click of his fingertips snapping together, as if following a song only he can recall. His arms are draped over his knees, and his form is illuminated in the glow of the night sky.

His black hair shields his face, but his heterochromatic eyes gaze out, through the small, rectangular barred window that gives him just the faintest glimpse of the world outside and the shining moon above. He feels patient for once— waiting for something. Waiting for the second shoe to drop.

That world outside... it can't stay outside his grasp forever.

His time is coming. Soon.

He has to wonder... if she's waiting for him out there.

That promise he made to that doll-like, strange, utterly enigmatic girl has been the only thing on his mind since the day he was admitted. It hasn't left his thoughts a single time, and it's the only other thing besides his own bloodlust that keeps him up at night.

...The thought of her, waiting for him to keep his promise. Their vow.

HIs smile is blinding, a grin wide enough to take down the strongest stern expression. Meeting that lunar glow with his unique smirk, he doesn't feel afraid of his future, as dark as it seems.

 _I'm gonna be free._

 _Ray..._

 _...No matter what happens, that vow is unbreakable._

 **.x.X.x.**

 **Ten Months After**

 _[Date Redacted]_

' _For the crimes of serial murder and kidnapping, Isaac Foster..._

 _... was sentenced to death.'_

 **.x.X.x.**

"So, Rachel... Is there anything you feel uneasy about?"

Ray slowly opens her gleaming blues to the small, well-lit room. It's a quarter past ten o'clock, if she remembers her times right. Her surroundings are painfully barren, a simple quiet room with a sleek wooden floor and a single window, revealing the night outside.

Another day, another session... the same therapist, and nothing's changed.

"No, not really," she answers with disinterest, hardly paying much mind to the female physician before her. She can't even recall her name. The woman seems unbothered by it, her older face creased with age and experience.

"So you're sleeping well at night, I take it?" she asks.

Ray slightly hesitates this time, but quickly masks it, her face unchanging. "...Yes."

Her counselor takes a moment to ponder her, but exhaling and glancing at the thick strapped watch on her wrist. "...I see. Well then, that should be enough for today. My apologies for being late, I had a session with another child that ran over time."

Ray's eyes slide closed for a moment, having heard this same story before. There must be many children 'like her' that stay within this place, this facility.

...That isn't true, though. None of them are like her. Not a single one of them is anything like her, nor would they share the same kind of invisible ties as she does.

Especially considering those ties connect her to a serial murderer.

"It's fine," she breathes in response, shaking her head.

The woman gets to her feet, tugging her white coat around her a bit more snugly. "I'll take you to your room."

Ray glances up at her from her chair, her eyes glinting in the light. "...I can manage by myself."

Something akin to pity flashes against the older woman's face.

"Now... we can't just let you do that, now can we? Sorry, but..."

Ray grows a bit more downcast. It's been quite some time since she was allowed to wander by herself. In this place, it feels like her very freedom is tethered to the same few halls she walks alongside the 'friendly staff'.

...In a way, it almost makes her yearn for those secluded times in the basement floors, finding her own way... with him.

"...Okay," she manages despondently.

The doctor wanders toward the door, and Ray casts a hesitant gaze back toward the window behind her. Through the thick glass laden with iron bars, she can make out the full moon peeking out behind hazy gray clouds.

 _I wonder if he's out there... under this very same sky, looking up at the moon too._

She slowly picks herself from the chair and follows the woman out into the shadowy hall, where the moon guides their passage through the many carefully secured windows. The physician seems as enraptured by the night sky as Ray, her auburn bob curling behind her ears.

"Oh my, what a beautiful moon today," she comments, glancing at Ray and offering her a smile behind her thick lip gloss. "Right, Rachel? Isn't it a lovely night?"

Her heartbeat jolts for a moment, and her insides feel that all-too-familiar ache ache.

Yes... a beautiful wonderful, memorable night. But she'd much rather be spending it with him. In his presence, in the security she felt and the feeling of loyalty.

"...Lovely night..." she murmurs, glancing to the floor.

"Yes, on days like this, it's best just to hop _right_ into bed," her physician declares with a small laugh, giving the young girl a wink. "Sweet dreams await you."

 _Sweet dreams..._

...She can't remember the last time she had a real dream. It feels like another life. Now, all she ever dreams of, is...

...him. For some reason, it's always him, bearing ebony and ivory wings across his back, swooping in to give her final gift. Of course it's unrealistic. She has nightmares about the other times, too, of when hse thought he would die, or that she couldn't save him.

Now, she has no idea where he is, or what he's thinking, or what he might be doing right now under this very same sky. It feels... solemn.

Ray quietly keeps pace with the older woman, trailing after her down the hall toward her room. Her pale, plain white nightgown brushes against her calves, and her bare feet press against the frequently cleaned wood floor.

Inside, she knows that her heart has been acting rather strange lately, as if there's something wrong that she can't place her finger on. It's been after her since this morning— or maybe even before that. A sharp throb that stems from her heart, confusing her with its suddenness and even taking away her breath with the intensity at times. It's as if it's waiting for something to happen, as if she expects something to crash down on her without warning.

She freezes in the middle of the hall at that same feeling, and her therapist realizes she's stopped.

"What is it, Rachel?" she inquires, her dull brown eyes taking a glance at the girl's face.

Ray's fingers clench and then loosen at her sides, and she shakes her head, pursing her lips. "...Nothing."

The woman eyes her. "...I see. Good."

"Yeah." Ray's eyes flutter toward the nearest window, catching sight of that moon again. Her chest restricts.

"Rachel..." Suddenly a note of concern enters the woman's voice, and she peers at Ray. "Are you scared...?"

This draws the girl's attention.

 _...Scared?_

It hadn't even occurred to her to think of that emotion. She hasn't felt _fear_ like that in months. Anticipation, anxiety, yes, but... fear?

"...Huh?" she blinks.

"Your condition has improved dramatically during your time here," the woman tells her, a hint of a reassuring look on her face as she draws near.

"...The person who was with you— That _killer._ You're no longer obsessed with him like you used to be."

Ray's heartbeat quickens in her chest, like a rabbit fleeing from a predator, and it hurts in such an odd way. Just the mention of him from an outsider leaves her feeling cold and different.

They had treated her like some victim of him back then, when they took him away. She tried to tell them he wasn't involved. She had fought and cried and whined but they told her it was all because of ehr trauma, that her memories weren't right. Yet she knows the truth of it all.

She stopped mentioning him, stopped being vocal about him, because that made him more of a target to them— and she didn't want to make any more trouble for him.

Something about this woman and what she's saying makes her uneasy. That throbbing ache is suddenly strong.

"...So, I'll tell you this just to put you at ease," the physician continues obliviously. She laughs to herself, a noise that grates at Ray's ears. "It's sort of against the _rules_ , but... That killer..."

 _...No._

 _Whatever she's about to say, I don't want to hear it._

Her heartbeat is a drumbeat, pounding in her ears, nearly drowning out the older woman's words; but even with her internal panic, her next sentence rings out crystalline clear, leaving her unable to breathe.

"...That killer is to be executed."

Something crumbles and breaks inside Ray at that moment.

The small flicker of a candle's flame that had kept her going all this time, the very dream of having him come take her away from this place, goes out as if blown away in the wind.

 _'That killer is to be executed.'_

That can only mean that he's...

 _...not going to come for me after all._

 _Our vow... will remain unfulfilled._

She feels the light go out inside herself, the very little essence of humanity she'd clung to these past months vanish as if it had never existed. Looking to the woman before her with dead, emotionless, pale blue eyes, she lets her bangs fall in front of her face.

"...I see. Is that so?" she says, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, it has probably come as quite a shock to you," her counselor says, reaching over to lightly pat her shoulder. "Though now you can sleep with peace of mind tonight."

"...Yes," she murmurs.

 _Peace of mind._

 _I... no longer crave ignorance or solitude, but..._

 _I am now... completely alone._

"Well, er..." Noticing how the girl seems completely unfazed and unreactive to her words, the physician clears her throat. "...Let's get going, then."

As if pulled along an invisible leash, Ray shadows her footsteps back to her room, unable to muster even some semblance of humanity.

After she's re-entered her large yet empty room, the doctor nods her head at her and smiles.

"Now behave yourself and go to sleep, alright?"

Quickly shutting the door, Ray listens to the sounds of the key turning in the lock, sealing her away inside. Left to her own desolate thoughts, she meets the room with sober eyes.

It's nothing like home. Home is like the messy, yet lived in room that he had stayed in until they met. This sterile room that contains a single small bed, a few boxes of toys, a bookshelf and desk, and just one large window that she always has the curtains pulled upon in order to imagine there's a sense of freedom past those iron bars— all of it means nothing to her. There's no attachment. There's nothing truly 'hers'.

It's... empty. So quiet and silent... without him.

And now... she'll never see him again.

After a moment, she draws toward the desk, her bare feet padding along the wood to the thick oaken furniture. Reaching toward the first drawer she sees, she pulls it open and reaches inside, her slim fingers wrapping around something familiar.

Tugging it out, she squeezes the hilt of his knife in her palm, the faintest hint of heat emanating from the handle. It's a miracle she still has it, but she'd managed to hide it from the prying eyes of the staff and security. Without this one lone item, she probably would have truly lost her mind ages ago.

This knife means everything to her. It is her world, the symbol of her oath to him.

...To Zack.

The chipped, battered blade gleams in the faint rays of lunar light and her corner lamp. It's faintly crusted in rust still, as well as blood, but she knows just by looking at it that it's still as sharp as the day he gave it to her.

Now it is her only tie to him... the last thing he left her with.

Her dull eyes gaze at it for a few moments, and she softly inhales.

 _The truth is... my nights were always restless, and my mind was uneasy. Tonight was supposed to be another sleepless night..._

 _A sleepless night waiting for you to come for me._

 _Now..._

Quietly she tucks the treasured blade back into the drawer where she's kept it safe all this time. Turning off her room light, she bathes in the flow of the night before slowly making her way to her bed.

Slipping underneath the thin blue coverlet, she lays her head against the down pillow, gazing up at the stucco ceiling.

 _...All I can do is shut my eyes._

Closing her eyes, she feels her heartbeat pulse in her chest, rhythmic, thunderous, painful.

As she waits for sleep to take her, she wishes that her heart would just stop.

 **.x.X.x.**

... _ud._

 _...Thud._

 _Thud!_

Ray is forced from a restless nightmare by the brutally loud, crashing sound of something being slammed against something else. It startles her, her eyes snapping open with wakefulness.

Sliding her feet down to the floor, she hears it again, very loud, coming from the direction of her massive window. She blinks that direction, trying to process what's going on.

 _That sound... is it coming from the window...?_

Ray moves toward the center of her room, eying the window suspiciously, and the banging continues, extra loud. She can't see what it is through her curtains.

 _What is...?_

"Rachel!"

That woman's voice from earlier joins the noise. Ray hears her near the door, yelling out for her.

"What's that sound? Rachel?!"

 _It's not someone who works here?_ she realizes.

Her heartbeat thumps again, roaring back to life. Her chest is throbbing, aching with that broken hope she doesn't dare try to cling to.

 _...Then..._

Not sure where her mind is running with a thousand questions and theories a second, she rushes to her desk and withdraws Zack's knife, gripping it tight. Glancing to her door, she uses all her strength to force her few boxes of heavy toys in front of it, keeping it from opening up.

The door unlocks, but the person on the other side shoves against it to no avail.

"Rachel?! Open up!"

Backing away from the door and knowing it won't hold them for very long, she hears another loud thud from the window. Turning toward it with her breath held in her throat, she approaches the large window and, using what nerve she has, throws open the curtains to reveal the bars and night sky.

She can barely make it out, but there's something out there, trying desperately to get in.

"Ra-Rachel?!" That woman's squeaky voice pours in. "What's going on in there?! Oh no! I gotta call the police!"

Her footsteps fade, but Ray is far too glued on the scene in front of her, her feet rooted to the spot in front of the window. Until—

"— _Get back!_ "

The voice is enough to rile her, but she's so stunned that she can only do what it tells her. Ray leaps backwards, just in time.

Glass and metal goes flying in each direction. A full frame of the window crashes in and shatters against the floor, creating a dangerous stepping field that glitters like gems. When she's stopped shielding her face, she removes her arm and gasps.

There he is.

There he is— fully cloaked in the moonlight that pours through the broken glass, the curtains whipping around him. In her first full glimpse of him, the moon shines at his back, creating the most vivid illusion of ethereal, iridescent wings against his dark-clothed body.

...The picture of her own angel of death.

His black hair whips against his face, unhidden by his hoodie, and the bandages that cover his full figure seem to glow. But what seals the scenario for her is the wide, unhindered grin that spreads across his face, and the bi-colored eyes that pierce her familiarly.

"Ta-da!" he says proudly.

 _Zack._

 _Zack. _

_...Zack. It's Zack._

 _...Is it really...-?_

She's so awestruck by him, of the very fact that he's right there before her, that his knife clatters to her feet, lost in her slack grip. She takes a step forward, not minding the glass littering the floor.

"...Zack?" she barely manages to utter his name. It feels like so long since she said it.

He slides easily down the windowsill, leaving a trail of blood behind, and she realizes that a streak of crimson is running down the left side of his face. An injury most likely sustained from breaking into her room.

"Aww, man," he huffs, a bit out of breath, but so entirely him as he stands there, placing a hand on his hip. Even bringing with him a brand new, shining scythe, he also brings a gust of memories and nostalgia that she had no idea she'd so missed until this moment. "There you go again, makin' that borin' face."

 _He's right here, right in front of me._

 _Zack's right here._

"Zack, how did...?" she whispers, her voice refusing to work properly. She's so lost by his presence, by the feelings of relief and happiness, that she can't figure out what it is she wants to say.

"Huh?" Replacing his hoodie, he dusts off his clothes and gives her a look. "How did I what?"

"I mean, you're supposed to be in _prison_..." she finally forces out through her incredulity.

He raises a brow, before laughing under his breath, shooting her a grin.

"...Prisons are made to be broken out of, right?!"

 _He broke out of prison...?_

 _He got out of there, and... and he came for me...?_

Her expression contorts. The wind blowing through her open window chills her, but her chest feels painfully warm.

"But back then..." she begins, brows knitting together. "I said I'd... bear the outcome of our oath..."

HIs eyes narrow, and he lets a burst of air gush through his lips.

"...So, what about it?" He inhales sharply, and raises a hand, waving a forefinger. "I mean, it's not yours to bear anyhow!"

 _Not... mine?_

 _So then... does that mean that he...?_

 _He came back here, to fulfill our oath? He chose to see it through to the end, to come here for me...!?_

Her throat is closing, and tears she hasn't shed since the very last day she stood by his side threaten to surface.

"Zack, so... you still—?" she whimpers. "You still want... to kill me-?"

He rolls his eyes, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. His multi-colored eyes pinpoint her, and she's entrapped in the gaze she's missed for so long. And, for another brief flash, she swears that she catches sight of those fluid wings at his back.

"This is me you're talkin' to here. I _never_ lose sight of somethin' that I want, right?!"

Those words puncture a hole through the strongest defenses she's put up all this time. The memories of everything they'd gone through together, the feelings and desires all come flooding back, and before she's even realized, the tears are beading over her eyelashes and blurring her vision.

He looks at her a moment, before abruptly turning away. He runs a hand through his hair and moves to the window sill, stretching his shoulders.

"...Hurry up. There ain't much time left."

Pulling himself back to the window, he places a hand on one of the shattered window frames to steady himself. His hood falls around his neck once again, and he gazes back at her.

"Or... did you forget?" he asks her, almost teasing yet serious.

She jumps at his jibe, and then vigorously shakes her head, moving forward a few steps toward him and gripping a hand tight into her nightgown.

"...No, Zack, I'd never forget...!" she cries passionately, her chin quivering. " _Not in a million years!_ "

 _I could never forget._

 _Our oath... You... Are so important._

 _I would never, ever, forget something so precious to me._

"I mean... it's an oath," she says, quieter this time as a single tear crests down her cheek. Then more follow, creating waterfalls that streak down her pale face.

"An oath you and I _swore together!_ "

Zack gazes at her for a moment, watching her bawl in front of him, before his lips quirk up.

"... Now that's more like it!" he grins.

The rush of footsteps outside in the hall catch their attention, as well as the many hurried shouts. She turns her head, but his call of ehr name makes her face him again.

His hand is outstretched toward her, his bandaged fingers splayed out for her to take. Zack's urging her on.

"Come with me, Ray!"

The answer is immediate. There's no second guessing, no thought of consequence.

She knows exactly where she wants to be. Where she wants to go.

"Okay... _okay_!" she burbles through sobs.

The voices are clashing together outside the room now, and there's loud banging and pushing against the door. Her boxes are starting to give way, and she knows there's little time left.

Yet she can't help the smile that's plastered over her face— her first real smile in so long, amidst the tears. She takes hold of his hand, and his fingers interlace with hers, locking tight.

Her eyes meet his, cornflower blue lit up in the light of the moon, against gold and chocolate.

"Hey, Zack... Please... kill me."

He snickers, those words the beginning of it all and now holding meaning far beyond what they'd ever dreamed, but tugs her in closer until he's leaning over her. Yet his hand doesn't let go of hers. He pulls her in and up into his arms, and she's lost in the moonlight glow and his happy expression.

"Then stop yer blubberin'...

"...and _smile_!"

 **.x.X.x.**

When the physicians and police have finished breaking into the room, all that's left is the empty area, filled with the chilled night air. Blood and glass mix in pools on the floor, but there are no bodies nor signs of massacre.

All that's left of the two who disappeared into the night, whose fates are left undetermined from that day onward...

...Is the single rusted, chipped blade left lying against the wood floor, glinting in the light of the fading moonlit sky.

 **.x.X.x.X.x.**

 **.x.X.x.**

 **.x.X.x.X.x**

* * *

 **A/N: Lightly edited.**

And, with that... AOD's novelization comes to a close. And I have so many of you to thank.

Everyone who read my stories, favorited, followed, and encouraged me to continue these past few months... thank you. (The 'Incoherent' theme form the game is playing and making me tear up while writing this actually, haha.)

You all inspired me to keep going. This is probably one oft he works I'm most proud of. I never really, trully thought I'd see it through to the end. When I first thought I'd write the novelization of AOD, I laughed at myself. It seemed so much fun, but like too much work, and so daunting. BUt... I chose to do it anyway, and here we are at the epilogue of a fantastic game.

AOD has inspired me to push my limits. I feel like a stronger writer, and I have become emotionally attached to these characters now. I was in tears finishing this last night, where I did it all in one go. I've become so involved, it's as if I helped create it. (But in all seriousness, thank you to KRNKRN for creating something that made me and so many others happy.)

I think now the question you might wonder is, 'will she continue to write for AOD?' Well... to answer that, I don't know. Actually, I want to. I know I want to. I want to expand, create my alternate aus...

...or even a sequel someday. Who knows.

But for now, I can't make promises— but I will say that writing this made me feel purposeful and happy, and if I can do that again, then I will. Maybe I'll even novelize those extra 'episodes' KRNKRN released for Eddie and co, haha.

for now, this is where we part ways— until my next work. I hope you all enjoyed this ride as much as I did... and boy I should _not_ have put on the AOD soundtrack writing this AN, because I feel super emotional.

Anyways... thank you. Thank you all so much. I'm proud to be part of the AOD fandom.

So... _**smile!**_


End file.
